Monday, July 25, 2011

"Mama, I Am Cooking You Dinner!"

It began with those words.  Of course, we ignored her until she said it a few times.  Then we nodded our head and said a few pat words like "Oh good!" and continued our business.  I mean, rarely do I have Rob's attention long enough to read him my favorite blog post by my favorite blogger.  And even more rare is for him to sit through it.  And rarest of all is him hysterically laughing through it (because apparently I am awesome at picking out my favorite blog post by my favorite blogger).  So when Neviyah ran into the family room repeatedly to tell us that she was cooking for us, we yeah-yeah'd her so that we could continue to laugh, pee our pants and thanks the gods above for sending that blog entry our way.

Meanwhile...

Neviyah runs out of her room, spitting.  Rob, being the better parent, jumped up and screamed, "What is in your mouth?!" in a slightly hysterical manner.  She took him to her room and Rob emerged with a cayenne pepper bottle, half empty.  This is where is gets jacked up.  Next thing, Neviyah is screaming and crying and yelling.  Her mouth and lips were burning!  At first, we thought this might be the appropriate time to give a little lesson about putting things in ones mouth.  However, that thought was fleeting, and we sprung into action to get her water.  Then milk.  Then cream.

Then the real screaming started.  Because, of course, all that loud business before was fake screaming.  Once she rubbed her eyes, the real stuff began.  Rob, again being the action-driven-good parent, simultaneously turned on the faucet, tested the temperature and shoved our unexpecting child directly under it, all in an effort to flush her eye.  Turns out, there wasn't cayenne in her eye; rather, it was in the cut on the side of eye.  (Cut on the side of her eye?  Camp, people!)  By this time, Neviyah was declaring her preference for her mama.

I swept in, put a wet paper towel on the cut, swooped her into my arms, and fed her wheat thins all the while snuggling her and making her feel oh-so-much-better.  She quieted down, and murmurered  her distaste for things like "peppers" and "hot things."  Even now, a bit later, she is whispering things to me like, "I didn't like that, Mama." and "My mouth is still hot."

Parents, beware when you child says he or she is "cooking you dinner."  There could be more going on!

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