Beware the Refridgerator Art

Lord WTF felled one of his own minions and I caught a glimpse into some of the dastardly booby (sp?) traps he has set for me.

Case in point, my oldest son. Whilst I was away upstairs tending his youngest brother, I hear him padding around on the first floor. Then, the telltale crash and crunch of face meeting glasses. Silence and then the hitching sobs. This is a kid who would rather eat dirt than cry in front of anyone, so I knew he must have been hurt or at least shook up pretty badly.

He meets me on the stairs with blood pouring out of two tiny cuts on his eyebrow. Any mother of a son knows this region of the body well and how profusely it will bleed no matter how shallow the wound, so we patched him up and he's sporting a lovely black and swollen eye for the next week.

After a brief respite, we asked the boy how he fell considering he is extremely agile and like a little spider monkey most of the time.

"Ma, the paper, it came after me and I fell."

The paper. So, before I start checking for killer newspapers flying about, I go downstairs and pull a CSI inspection. Follow the blood trail and spatter to the pool of crimson on the floor. A-ha! Seems Miss Rachel was doing her art earlier in the day and had placed one of her creations on the fridge, but used a weak magnet and said masterpiece floated gracefully to the ground. Now, if I would have stepped on it, I'm sure I would be nursing a broken tail bone by now, but a 5 year-old bounces more.

Just remember, not even such niceties as children's art work is what it seems.

Slushies

If it isn't lord WTF keeping me busy, it is the Spring. When you live in a place where winter lasts about 5 months, you don't take the wonderful days of sun and balmy weather for granted, thus my lack of postings in the past month, but here's a new one.

Just when I thought I could sneak away and spend a few moments lost in the latest novel I'm reading, I hear the distinctive sound of a child skidding across the floor and crashing into the ground. Silence. Then came the hitching screams and wails. My mommy sense told me this was big and up the stairs comes my oldest son, bleeding profusely from his eyebrow. Glasses smashing into a little boys face on impact are very unforgiving, but thankfully, produce very shallow wounds.
Suddenly, everyone under the tender age of six in the house has a boo-boo that needs tending. Amazing how invisible owies pop up on the rest of the pack when one of their brethren is recouping. Will Tylenol take care of it? No. How about a band-aid? Well, sort of, but the magical elixir that puts all hearts and gashes at ease is slushies. Hooray for syrup infused, sugar laden blue slushies, straight from our own personal arsenal of kitchen equipment.

Not even lord WTF can beat my secret weapon to quiet and content kids. YA-HA!