Yesterday the boys and I went to the chiropractor to fix my shoulder that got hurt when the trunk slammed on my head... I begin to believe I may be seriously gifted. Alas, not in a good way. But I digress... As I was face down on the table, Hatchling began pulling things out of my purse (meanwhile H2 ran around the office like a crazy baby, pulling leaves off of plants, throwing the toy he stole from the waiting room, and laughing manically- needless to say, they're always happy to see us coming). After a few moments, Hatchling asks "What's this green thing Mommy? Is it a cheese stick? Can I have a cheese stick? Please Mommy? I'm really hungry! Why won't you share with meeeeee (this last part was wailed) ?"
It was a tampon.
The chiropractor laughed until he nearly cried.
When Hatchling's turn came up, he informed the chiropractor that he had a toilet flush and a crack-o-tick in his back, and he needed to get them out. The good doctor was more than willing, and even found an extra crack-o-tick in his ear. Today, Hatchling shared with me that the has some more crack-o-ticks and two toilet flushes in his back. And his shoulder is hurt too. Can we go back to the chiropractor? I have no idea why he would have toilet flushes in his back, nor do I know what a crack-o-tick is. My vocabulary is obviously lacking.
After we went to the gym this morning (where Hatchling informed me that the did
hit someone, but he didn't
have an accident, slap, kick, bite, or scratch anyone) we headed to WalMart. As we passed a woman with several kids hanging off of her cart, a little boy about Hatchling's age pointed and said loudly "That's Hatchling, Momma! He's MEAN!"
I responded appropriately by bursting into laughter and pushing on to the next aisle. Hatchling was clearly upset by this, and assured me that he had never hurt that
kid. I told him that said kid had probably seen him hurt someone else, and that I felt such castigation was more than fitting in his case. He cried.
When checkout time came, guess who we were behind? My poor baby. We're going to have to move out of state and give him a fresh start if he doesn't stop beating people. Or maybe we could send him to military school. Nah... I'd miss this little face...