Little Legs throws more than tantrums now.
In fact, he throws anything he can pick up and heave into the air. With a surprising amount of strength for someone so small, that list has recently included a bag of blocks, his dinner plate, a chair and a few balls. Naturally, when he is outside and allowed throw balls, he feigns disinterest, preferring to throw handfuls of mulch and pick dandelions.
Yesterday, a puzzle piece with the face of cheetah took flight and hit my face which was hard to justify as unintentional.
He pointed at me and then at the puzzle while holding the cheetah face piece.
“Turn it the other way,” I encouraged.
“No!” he screamed sensing the impossibility of the suggestion and launched it.
Right. At. My. Face.
We scream and yell lot more frequently now that Little Legs is a toddler, usually things like, “Put that knife down.” And “Let go of the cat’s tail!” And “Don’t touch that electrical socket.”
This situation was no exception.
I screamed, “Ouch!” which brought Daddy Longlegs popping out of his office like a jack-in-the-box.
“What’s going on out here?”
“Oh, Little Legs just hit me with a puzzle piece,” I said, still holding my cheek.
It stung, but also it was startling to get hit in the face, especially by a pint-sized person who looks like your husband and to whom you gave birth. I was stunned and also grateful that Baby was sleeping because Little Legs had moved from the puzzle to driving his Tonka truck. I had a feeling that the truck was next in line to earn a set of wings and his brother may have been his target.
“Little Legs, that was not nice. You need to spend a minute in the time out chair,” Daddy Longlegs explained.
With that, Little Legs was scooped up and carried away, kicking and screaming. Tears gushed down both cheeks as he protested his fate. I was left behind in their dust.
I peeked around the corner to see him in a blue chair in the front room, squirming left and right, hopping up and down trying to escape while Daddy Longlegs held him in place and watched the clock for sixty seconds of eternity to pass.
“Are you sorry for hitting Mommy?” Daddy Longlegs asked.
Little Legs nodded in faux remorse and scampered off down the hallway in search of heavier things to throw the next time the door to Daddy Longlegs’ office closes.
As it turns out in yet another surprise of parenthood, we must teach our children right from wrong and it is clearly not going to be an easy job.
**Adding this to the list of important things that should have been mentioned at the hospital when we took Little Legs home for the first time nearly two years ago.