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I Was Going to Post About Snow

January 28, 2011

This post was supposed to be about fun in and with the snow with little ones. We’ve had a really fun week having it around in such abundance. I found a bunch of great links this morning with fun stuff to try in the snow and since we hadn’t been anywhere except outside in the snow since Tuesday morning, we decided to bundle up and head out for a walk and to play and to get some lunch about a block away.

Things don’t always work out quite how we planned, though. In the midst of getting 1500 layers on two kids(plus changing myself into my husbands’ snow boots because I don’t have my own until I buy a new pair,) there was a lot of fussing and screaming. “No, I don’t want to wear that one.” Running from Mama while squealing. Wiggling out of coats. Refusing snow pants. It resulted in time outs. Followed by another time out that needed to happen in his room. On his way back down, he was so excited to get outside and play that he missed a step and took a tumble – the whole way down our wooden stairs. Hard:(

He’s ok, thankfully. Very, very thankfully. He has a nasty gash on top of  his head and a bruised up side of his face, so we wound up taking a trip to the doctor instead of our walk and play outside.

:Sidenote: Can I please just state for the record that I had a surprisingly proud parenting moment in all of this? In the midst of the slow motion 5 seconds-that-felt-like-an-hour where I leaped across the room to try to catch him tumbling down the stairs, I managed to yell only, “OH MY GOD!” Loudly enough that Mia said, “Mommy, we’re not allowed to say that,” while I was trying to find the source of the blood dripping from my baby’s head.  I was kind of proud of myself. My Normal Self would have said something much more 4-lettered that rhymes with Fit, or so I thought.  I surprised myself by not using one in front of my kids in a scary situation. Plus, I kind of think “Oh My God” incredibly appropriate. I’m not being facetious. In that instant when the tears sprang to my eyes and I yelled “OH MY GOD” as I sprinted across the room, I really was hoping and praying , “Oh Dear God, please please PLEASE let him be ok…”

We went to the doctor, he screamed as soon as we walked in the door and fought the Nurse and Doctor, complete with “Don’t! Don’t! NO! NO!” like they were trying to kill him and a lot of kicking and holding down. Complete hysterics. Two other nurses came in to see if we need help. It was a sight. Mia was even trying to get in the mix and rubbing his back and telling him it was ok. I think because he got shots the last time he was there?

So, Happy Meals on the way home – isn’t this exactly the sort of occasion that they really are for?

We had big, important discussions about how Boys OR Girls can choose Ponies OR Trucks as their toy – whatever they like. Big, important discussion following the comment, “Mommy, this drink is only 5 calories!” My response: “What does that mean?” Her: “That it’s healthy!” Me: “What does it mean for something to be healthy?” Her: “That it helps us grow!” And so on…

And even though she doesn’t developmentally understand the concept of a calorie and how food and drinks have calorie values assigned, she still completely grasped that having a certain number of calories made something “Healthier.” AND it’s on her radar, at THREE, that we need to categorize things into Healthy vs. Unhealthy.

Oy. I’m beat. The snow post will have to wait for another day.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. January 29, 2011 1:29 am

    Poor little guy. That is *exactly* what Happy Meals are for.🙂

  2. Jennifer permalink
    January 29, 2011 12:39 pm

    I love those moments when your child says something that seems so beyond their years. It makes you feel like an excellent parent for only a moment. I was inspired to talk to my daughter about what is healthy and not healthy. She told that eating poopy was not healthy! I am so proud!

  3. January 31, 2011 10:50 am

    Poor N! I hope he is ok!!!!!

  4. seekingsibling permalink
    January 31, 2011 5:49 pm

    Eeek! Is your heart beating again? When Owen rode the pressure gate down the stairs (the one I had been begging B to replace with a mounted one since we moved in a month before), the first words out of my mouth were “NOW can we fix the f—ing gate?” You did better than me🙂

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