I foolishly thought last week's tantrum throwing of a glass/bathtub full of glass/brother with a lacerated shoulder/trip to the ER to get said brother glued up would teach my volatile three year old a lesson. It did. Unfortunately it was the wrong lesson.
He now admonishes us daily about the dangers surrounding us. Two nights ago, as I was tucking him in, he cautioned me, "Don't roll over in your bed tonight, Mommy. If you roll over, you will fall out and get cut. Den you will hav'a go to da hop-sital and get stitches. Den you get to go to McDonald's and get chicken nuggets and a TOY!!!" These speeches start off quiet & serious. The danger is obvious. But somewhere around the end, the tone changes drastically. By the time he gets to the part about McDonald's & the toy, he is positively giddy. He starts sounding like that Billy Mays guy from the commercials peddling open wounds as a cure all for boredom. He's very excited about the prospect of a trip to the ER & the ensuing shower of treats.
B.B. warns his dad as he leaves for work, "Don't fall down at C****, Daddy. 'Cause Den you'll get cut & hava' go to da hop-sital and get stitches."
He warns Bitsy as she crawls through the living room, "Don't fall on the floor, Bitsy, 'cause den you'll get cut & hava' go to da hop-sital and get stitches."
He warns BabyGirl & #1 Son as they leave for school about the perils that await.
The biggest problem is that this has in no way curbed his appetite for destruction or his desire to leap from high places. It may have made it all a bit worse. I think he'd happily submit to stitches in order to reap a Happy Meal toy.
In reality I fear we may be raising a mini Bam Margera. Please, Lord, NO!!!
1 comment:
My completely uneducated suggestion is to just get it over with and wrap him in bubblewrap until he's 18.
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