Welcome to the Playground

Hello. My name is Mommy, the Human Jungle Gym. I am currently being climbed all over by a rambunctious, long-legged, eight-year-old boy. I am coming to you sandwiched between my office chair and an Angry Bird underwear-clad child who has enough energy to power the world. Someone just needs to harness it. I will settle for you putting a leash on him and dragging him off me.

If I was doing anything else besides working at my computer, Kiddo would have no interest in me whatsoever. It is only now, as I try to wring a few words from my somewhat arid brain, that he has decided I am the greatest thing since model railroads. I apparently need to be scaled, kicked, pulled on, and hung from. Forget the Matterhorn, it’s the Mommyhorn the boy must conquer. Oh, and treated to a few noxious scents too, as this child has gas at the moment. Jeez, what has this kid been eating? The local pulp mill?

I’m used to being things besides a human being. I’m a tissue for wiping one’s nose on. I’m a tent pole, over which blankets should be slung so that Kiddo can pretend to camp in the middle of the living room. I’m a towel for him to wipe his eyes dry when his mask slips in the pool. And today, I am monkey bars for the resident monkey boy to play upon. Who knew I possessed so many hand- and footholds?  

You will forgive the shortness of this blog today, as I am constantly having to backspace to correct the terrible typing that occurs when one is being pummeled by her laughing child. He will not rest until I am bruised to a lovely purple hue. I do look nice in purple, but this is a bit much. Until Kiddo discovers something else to play with, I should probably find a good place to hide. Canada looks about right.