June 23, 2006
Love Hurts
The other night I held Isaac, our youngest, in my arms. He cooed "Daddy" and stroked my cheeks with his hands, an angelic smile on his lips. Then he stretched his arms back as far as he could and brought his sweaty little palms crashing into my ears. He followed this by maintaining a grip on my ears and pulling them like they are taffy, with the emphasis on the word "like," because they most assuredly are not made of taffy, though I fear they are a bit larger now. In short, the boy treated me exactly the way you want to handle a large assailant who has you in a bear hug. As I've explained elsewhere, the boy seems to have an innate talent for inflicting injury.
And then, as my howl reverberated through the kitchen, he went back to the sweet loving. This child is going to be trouble.
Posted by Woodlief on June 23, 2006 at 09:00 AM
I've been there! I have one myself. He's three and has a ferocious palm heel to the groin area!
Posted by: Donny at June 23, 2006 9:13 AM
I've never been so surprised or frightened as when my son broke a golf club squarely over the top of my head.
It was plastic, but still. He was only two!
Posted by: Jared at June 23, 2006 9:53 AM
Ive' been there and also had one myself, albeit 39 years ago. Today he's a Batallion Chief in a fire department, so don't give up or out, and stay alert!
Posted by: Mary Ann G at June 23, 2006 10:46 AM
Sorry Tony but I had to burst out laughing at that image! Here's hoping he learns to channel that innate talent of his! I still grin whenever I think of your Hallowe'en candy story and him going over those Tootsie Rolls with a vengeance =) What a blessing those babies are! Every time I read your stories--the funny, the heartwarming, the sad--I look forward to being a parent.
Posted by: Rachel at June 24, 2006 1:46 AM
Hope you can still hear.
At least you can continue to write,
even if you are deaf!
Thanks for all your postings.
Posted by: Pilgrim at June 26, 2006 2:36 PM
I get the same thing from Lily. She'll be stroking me as gently as you could imagine when for a short moment the Spawn of Hell takes hold of her little hands and she rakes her sharp nails down my cheek or across my nose. She usually leaves matching contrails on the cheeks, and more than once she's drawn blood.
Then she flickers back to the sweet little girl she is most of the time, leaving me confused.
Posted by: J Fielek at June 30, 2006 1:35 AM
