After dinner I was wrestling with my babies in the living room while Brendan finished the dishes. Wrestling is something that occurs with some frequency at my house. Really all that happens is that I lay on the floor and let the babies climb all over me, amid shrieks and giggles.
This evening The Giraffe decided that he could not possibly relinquish his hold on his yellow Hotwheels. Now, in all fairness, it is likely that had he put it down he would have been forfeiting his chance to play with it for the rest of the evening. Yes, I think it highly probable that this was a learned behavior via trial and error.
At some point in our wrestling, I got pummeled in the mouth by his Hotwheels car. For those of you with experience in brutal behavior, you know that lip-shots hurt because there is something hard and potentially sharp on both sides. No blood, just a fat lip, but that ended our wrestling match making the score Mommy 0 , babies 1, 749,261. Be it known, not all of those matches ended in violence. Most end because Mommy gets tired of it and forfeits.
Now we get to my favorite part, and really the only reason the story is worth telling. I don't make it a habit of telling people my 2 and 1 year old boys can whip me without having something to show for it. Probably twenty minutes after we'd broken up the match and I'd settled on the couch with a book The Elephant came around the couch and picked up The Murder Weapon,
"Mommy, this car...bonked your face?" he asked me concernedly.
Smile..."Yes, baby, that car bonked Mommy's face."
"On your yip?"
Smile widens..."Yes, on my yip."
"Will you kiss it better for me?"
Noding "Mmm-hmm...mmwaa...all better."
"Thank you, love."
And you know what the best part is, it really did make me feel better! It's like magic, lovey kisses really do make your hurts better! Maybe we could market this somehow!?