Poor Wesley!

Imagine a girl named Kyla standing on Daddy’s leather chair, holding a standing Wesley against her, both of them facing the ottoman.  I remind her that Wesley moves around by himself so she didn’t need to do that.  She replies, “Oh, but we’re just jumping.”  Then before I could say anything, she takes a flying leap onto the ottoman with Wesley still in her arms.  She makes the distance, but because of Wesley’s weight, they land on their tummies, not their feet.  If you are picturing the scene, you know that 40 lb Kyla landed on 20 lb Wesley. 

That boy looked at me and grinned.  How did he not get royally trounced?

 

Go forward 2 hours.  Same grinning boy is toddling around upstairs and falls, smacking his head right on the edge of a stool.  It’s going to be a black eye.  It hurts and he cries for quite a while.  (It’s kind of hard to see with all the smoothie juice on his face.)

 

Go forward 12 hours.  Dwayne gets up and takes snotty-nosed Wesley into the shower with him.  While Dwayne has his eyes closed, Wesley somehow hits his head on the wall, right above yesterday’s injury. You can barely see his blackeye for his new cut.  Oh boy, my boy, I am sorry!

I swear my kids have to start off brilliant because the best we can hope for is that by the time they are school age, they will be down to normal intelligence.