Spoons

You know those moments when your kids do something wrong and you are too far away or there are too many obstacles in your way to get to them so you resort to shouting, in your slow motion voice, “Noooooooooooooooooo”.

This is our life with Rory. Mr curiosity touches everything and is afraid of nothing. I’m convinced that, given the opportunity, my son would hunt small game with his bare hands, squeeze it to death, and then taste test it. All with a smile on his face. Not just any smile, a devilish grin. Like, I totally know how to manipulate you bitch and I’m going to pull out every ace, until you fold.

Take for example, this weekend. Cardin is using the potty and Rory slips through our grasp and takes off running; wielding a large serving spoon. I’m already shouting “noooooo” even though I don’t yet know the results, but I’m a mom, so predicting a disaster is part of my job. Before either Brett or I can chase him down and navigate through the minefield of toys he has already jammed the spoon into the toilet full of pee.

Cardin finds this hysterical, Rory is grinning ear to ear as he stirs his pee potion, and Brett just says “ewww”. I hang my head, knowing that my future with this boy is nothing short of these reoccurring episodes of pure chaos; and then I fish the spoon out of the toilet.

Just another day at the Mayer house.