Remember those old Hefty commercials, where they showed someone trying to lift a garbage bag only to have it tear apart and spill its contents all over the place? Then comes the voiceover: "Wimpy, wimpy, wimpy!" And the response: "Hefty, Hefty, Hefty!" At least, that's how I remember it.
So why do I bring this up? I think "wimpy, wimpy, wimpy" should be my motto from now on. Why, do you ask? Simply this: my 15-month-old son beats me up. And he's done it several times. Of course, it's never intentional--but there have been at least five times, all within the last month or two, when he's bonked me on the head (usually in the nose) and pretty much incapacitated me. And he suffers no injuries himself.
For instance, last night: he conked me on the left cheekbone with his forehead, leaving me in tears, and then followed it up five minutes later with another head to my lower lip, giving me a slight fat lip. Meanwhile, he's just as happy-go-lucky as ever. I'm sitting there crying, Daddy is trying to get Joshua to understand that he hurt Mommy, and Joshua is just smiling and laughing. What is wrong with this picture? =\
I just hope he learns soon that he has an incredibly hard head and that, while it doesn't seem to phase him when he whacks it against his mommy, the same cannot be said for this wimp of a mother. Or maybe I just need to get a thicker skull myself.
7 months ago