Kamikaze Kids: They run. They scream. They crash into each other and the hardest, sharpest edges they can find. And that’s just in twenty-four hours.
I swear I don’t beat my children.
Have I ever been tempted?
Especially when my son hits my hot button and bullies his sister.
But I haven’t.
You wouldn’t think it to look at their faces.
Because I am cursed gifted with children whose play mode is often set to “kamikaze”.
This blog is called Dances with Chaos for a reason.
Nothing made this more apparent than the twenty-four hour time frame from Tuesday night through Wednesday.
We have collapsible tents that can be connected via tunnels to form a giant castle.
Lil Diva was in the big red tent.
The Tackler was in the smaller yellow one that is bottomless. Spinning.
You can tell where this is going, can’t you?
“You’re being reckless. You need to stop spinning,” I said, my almost non-existent voice a mere croak.
It didn’t matter. I’m pretty sure his superpower was cranked to eleven again.
The inevitable happened. He got dizzy and fell – directly on top of Lil Diva in her tent.
This prevented her from bracing herself and her forehead met tile, resulting in a giant goose-egg, The Tackler being banished, and many tears from Lil Diva.
It is now bruise, the egg gone.
Luckily it is also hidden by the hair she won’t let me style for more than thirty seconds.
Karma came into play the next day.
The Tackler and Lil Diva were miraculously playing well, running upstairs and screaming like Banshees. My son, in his 4.5 year old brilliance, decided running beneath his bed sheet would be the icing on the cake.
And it was fun.
Until he ran forehead first into the sharp edge of the upstairs railing, giving himself a lovely Frankensteinish slash between his eyes.
He received “the reckless” lecture again, a calm discussion about putting a damper on some of the more kamikaze ways.
He seemed to listen.
I took both children to the gym a few hours later, dropping them off in the child care.
When I returned, the first thing the employee said to me was, “Just to warn you, your son has a shiner.”
What the frak now? I thought. “What happened?”
“He was running and crashed into his sister on accident. He refused to let me put ice on it.”
“Great.” I wondered again why I hadn’t invested in one of those giant padded sumo wrestling suits in his size.
It’s like he knows I desperately want another family photo taken.
At this rate it won’t happen. Not without some major editing required.
Because he does in fact have quite the shiner.
To match Lil Diva’s.
And he shows no signs of having learned a lesson or slowing down – normal life in The House of Chaos.