I don’t know if my children are having a bad day today, if they are slightly drunk, or if the are just very clumsy children. They’re not usually very clumsy, which makes me think that that option is not the correct answer. It would be hard for them to be slightly drunk, as we don’t drink alcohol, and thus have none in our house. They could, however, have found a sippy cup of white grape juice under some piece of furniture or pushed to the back of a closet that had fermented and turned to wine, I guess. I haven’t seen them sipping from any suspicious cups lately, though, so I think I’m going to have to go with them just having an unfortunately bad day.

Case in point, as I was sitting here at my computer, Kyra was just yards away (but just out of my line of vision) using my bathroom. I peeked in once at a suspicious sound, but it was just her rolling up a roll of toilet paper that she must have previously unrolled, while sitting on the potty. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn’t really recognize the whimpering cries coming from her direction as “I’m in trouble, come help me!” cries at first. When I did register that she sounded slightly panicked, I leaned over and peeked around the doorframe, and this is what I saw…
Kyra was no long seated on the potty, but had fallen off somehow and was balanced on her head with her legs in the air, leaned slightly against the toilet, bare butt there for all the world (well, just me, I guess) to see. My first thought was, “Would it be totally terrible to snap a quick picture before helping her off of her head?”. Through my quick mental deductions, I realized that I might very well have my good mommy status taken away if I had that particular picture in my photo album, and thus rushed to help her up. Laughing, I asked her what happened. Her response? “The potty did it.”

The second incidence happened while I was ignoring my children tending to pressing email issues, and I heard upset cries of the Elijah type coming from the other bathroom. His cries were bordering angry, and I first thought he was just having a hard time reaching something or some similar problem. When the angry/upset cries continues, I got up to go check on him. I found him balanced precariously on the side of the tub. He was sitting there, careful not to lean forward or backward, because he certainly would have fell. He looked up at me with angry eyes, and said, “Stuck!”. And so he was. This doesn’t sound too problematic, until you take into consideration that our tub doesn’t have a smooth edge because we have sliding doors instead of a shower curtain, which of course means that he was balancing his diaper-clad butt on a metal track in which the doors slide. It couldn’t have been comfortable digging into his bare, chubby, little legs.

Bad day or not, I wonder if my next child will be as spazzy special as my first two. I can only hope.