Friday, October 18, 2013

What Doesn't Kill Your Kid Makes You Smarter

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" right? Or so the saying goes.

How about, "What doesn't kill your kid makes you smarter" as well?

Thursday, I picked up Ethan from school. He had a box of raisins in hand and shared some with Brandon on the car ride home. 

At home, we did whatever we did, got shoes off, washed hands, blah blah blah. I talked to Brandon; I don't know about what exactly but I know I did. I mean, come on: kids. Then I put him down for his nap, which most definitely required more talking. 

Two hours went by. I woke him up, because the later I let him sleep, the later he stays up that night and the later he stays up the more demon-like I get, so for everyone's sake I don't let him sleep past a certain point. 

He was passed out so I jiggled him a bit and he turned his head and looked at me. His mouth looked kind of funny and I wondered if he had a stroke or something because it was sagging on one side, but when I asked him if he had a good nap and he said "yes" I knew he hadn't succumbed to any medical anomalies. 

We went downstairs and the next thing I know, Ethan was asking Brandon what he has in his mouth. I was like, Ethan, he just woke up from his nap, he doesn't have anything in his mouth, and Ethan was like, yes he does, and I was like, no he DOESN'T, and then Brandon was suddenly telling me that he doesn't want "this" anymore and I was confused and thinking, what the F are you talking about?

Then he walked over to me with his tongue sticking out of his mouth, and hanging off his tongue was a gigantic mass of chewed-up raisins that he slept with in his mouth for his ENTIRE NAP.

I was completely horrified. He could have choked to death in his sleep on this thing, and it would have been my fault for not noticing that he had a gigantic mass of raisins in his mouth when I put him to bed, even though he had talked. I know he did!

How did I not notice THAT?


Like, physically check it. I've always told my kids to chew and swallow their food before I put them down for their naps, but that's when I've noticed that they have food in their mouths.

Or I could think about how many times as a kid I've fallen asleep with a cough drop in my mouth and woken up hours later to a festering chunk of disgustingness making sweet, sweet love to my tongue, and I never choked.

Nah. I don't think I want to take the chance.

Now, for some levity:

Just so you know, I have horrifyingly large hands for a woman (I CAN PALM A FUCKING BASKETBALL), so while that raisin mass takes up two of my fingers in width, it probably takes up three fingers of most women's hands.

Don't believe me? Here is a photo demonstrating that my hands are easily the size of my face. Or is that normal? 

Should I write a horror movie script about gigantic hands that attack faces? 

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