Remember the movie Parenthood with Steve Martin where that little boy, Justin, put a bucket on his head and banged into the wall? He attempted several times to go through the wall before he put his hand out and realized the wall was solid.
Yeah. Funny stuff.
The other day my 5 year old boy-child decided it would be a good idea to swing around a sock full of dry erase markers like a lasso. I understand the allure. Markers in a sock. Who wouldn’t want to swing that around? Inevitably, he hit himself in the head and started to cry. Having not seen that first smack, I asked him what was wrong.
“I hit myself in the head!” He cried, tears streaming down his face, all the while swinging his elementary school weapon around his head.
“Stop doing that then,” I said as only us Minnesotans are wont to do (I am speaking of the “then” not the telling him to stop…). As I’m saying this he hit himself in the head a second time and cried even harder.
“Stop doing that,” I repeated.
“No! It’s fun,” he said through sobs as he hit himself (oh, I bet the suspense is killing you!) a THIRD TIME. And even then did he stop? No. It wasn’t until he smacked himself a fourth time that he decided that, yes, he should stop doing that. He dropped the sock to the floor and stomped off crying as he held his head.
I would weep for his future if I wasn’t laughing so hard.
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4 weeks ago
1 comments:
That idea of fun...it's kind of like drinking...or guys...or a million ways of having fun that seem like a good idea at the time. The boy-child, if he sticks with it, can save himself miles of grief if he just keeps thinking hitting himself in the head with a sock full of dry erase markers is the best fun.
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