Our twins have started wrestling with each other every evening. After they clean up all their toys (or take the short cut and shove them under the couch), they decide it’s time. Now, as far as I know, they’ve never actually seen WWE. At least, I’m hoping they can’t yet understand the headline, “The 2010 Slammy Awards set for a special three-hour Raw.”
Before William and Vivian step into the ring (the boundaries defined by the area rug in our living room), they prepare. They take their socks off their feet and put them on their hands. I’m not sure why this is: perhaps it’s so they can use the smelly-sock-in-the-face move. Maybe it’s because they don’t want to scratch each other with any jagged nails they haven’t managed to chew. Most likely it’s just because.
The first night they wrestled, I served as the unofficial referee. It was body slam, pull shirts over each other’s heads wrestling. I was amused, in that laugh-now-because-first-aid-will-be-needed-soon. I also enjoyed this full contact action because I believe physical play can be healthy for self-esteem.
In my mid-twenties, I took Judo. Although I couldn’t cartwheel or round-off to save my life (which sucked the moment I was thrown), I loved ground fighting. After a bout with our instructor — who’d competed for Canada in the Olympics — he looked at me and said, “You definitely have an older brother. Who I bet you used to fight with.” Yup.
So I don’t stop my kids from wrestling. But I no longer opt to watch, either; I hide in another room. If it’s going to involve a trip to the emergency, I don’t want to be a witness. I’m not sure what Child and Family Services would think about my Ostrich Theory approach to parenting, but that hasn’t stopped me before from disappearing when the going gets rough.
Last night, when Vivian and William once again announced it was wrestling time, I packed up my laptop and moved to the other room. Before I disappeared, I yelled this:
Because that’s what the parenting experts tell you to say.
And now you understand why I considered naming my blog, “Moronic Mom” (which, incidentally, is a domain that’s still available).
So funny. My grandmother always used to say to my dad (and he carried on saying it to us as teenagers) “If you come home dead, I’ll kill you.” There way of saying “be careful.”
Ooops wrong “their.” Typical. 🙂
I LOVE this – LOVE IT -I am so happy that I am not alone!! My monkey’s haven’t figured out the sock on the hand trick yet but…I think I’ll share it –
my husband is the “referee/ instigator” and he’ll be the one the Children & Youth can talk to:)
Love the blog – I think you should keep Ironic Mom but…it’s good to know you have options:)
I don’t know if this bizarre but I said, “stop rubbing your boogers on me” to my son during bed time.
“Quit looking at her butthole!” said Hot Joe the Husband after Noah commented that the dog has a freckle on her butthole. Yup.
My daughter once said to her children shortly after child # 4 was born, “Don’t lick the baby!”
Your holiday decoration really jazzes the whiteboard up. : )
Ryan
Today, I said to my mom about my daughter… “Mom, don’t worry – she eats dog hair all the time.”
I love that they put their socks on their hands. It’s like, “Okay, this is gonna get crazy, but let’s be safe.” I always felt that the smelly-sock-to-my-sister’s-face move was more effective with the sock still on my foot. Old school.
To the 6YO last night: “Where are you going with that knife?” Craft time, apparently, and he needed to whittle a stick.
How did you get your page to snow? That is awesome.
A knife…whittling a stick. Good to hear The Crazies go on in your house, too.
Ah yes, the old threat of violence to discourage violent behavior. I’ve heard many variations of this command. For some reason I don’t think it really works. My mom always used to say, “Fight nice.”
I like “Fight nice.” I may borrow it. Of course, for dramatic flair, I’ll likely add, “Or I’ll kill you.” I am Queen of the Empty Threat.
My 3.5 year old would love nothing better than to go WWF RAW on his 14 month old baby sister – socks optional. Sadly I cannot employ the ostrich method for this as he is double her weight and capable of knocking one of us to the ground at full tilt.
That being said, I used to love to wrestle with my cousins. 🙂
*Love* the Whiteboard Wednesday this week.
Today I said, “We don’t pour tea on baby sister’s head.” Luckily it was pretend tea…. this time. He found it hysterical.
I love the snow! I’m guessing that isn’t possible for us non-paying wordpress users…?
Love love love the tea comment. I mean seriously, you can’t make this stuff up!
I’ve said a lot of weird things to my kids in my time, but none so disgusting as what I had to say to one of them last night.
“I am very sorry that it is itching and bugging you, but it is the inside of your butt. What do you THINK I should be doing to help you with your itchy butt?”
Pinworms.
ROFL. Butts deserve their own category on most family blogs. Thanks for the laugh!
We’d so get along. My three boys wrestle and beat the snot out of each other. I don’t look. I bury my head in a book or blogging and tell them to keep it down so mommy can concentrate. It’s not like they’re going to stop, so I’m not going to bother yelling at them or breaking it up.
You’re a wise woman. I’m going to try the “mommy can’t concentrate.” Thanks for stopping by!