I was upstairs folding for baskets of laundry this morning (stripped all beds this weekend plus our daily laundry pile, two days that I did not put away!). Suddenly I heard this blood-curdling scream:
"MoooooooooooooooooommmmmmM!!!!! Moooooooooommmmmmmm!!!!!! MOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!"
I dropped what I was doing, ran as fast as I could down the stairs, expecting Bug Boy to be pinned under something heavy or hurt, by the terrified sound of his voice. As I nearly wiped out on the kitchen linoleum, I glanced around the Family Room and called him, "Bug Boy!! Where are you?" I did not see him.
He was behind the sofa, in his "clubhouse" playing with his Leapster. He looked up at me and asked, rather innocently, "Mom? Is seventy-five and seventy-five equal to one hundred fifty?"
He looked at me and waited for my reply. Through clenched teeth I told him, "Yes, it is. And next time you need mommy, please do not scream like that. If you need me (unless you are in trouble or hurt, please use a quieter voice and come to find me. Do not sit down here screaming. Do you understand?"
He nodded and went back to his game.
Grrrr....
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2 comments:
I remember doing somethingn similare when I was a little girl. I was fighting (as usual) with my brother and he wrenched my blanky away. I screeched DAD, Bryan hurt Blanky! My dad has been napping on the sofa and in his sleep haze only heard me scream and yell about being hurt. He came running and was furious to learn that I had been playing. I'll never forget the way he grabbed me and shook my arms for emphasis. As a child it made a huge impact. As an adult I understand what I did and how scared he was.
HAR! Imagine that, a math whiz :) Poetic justice, babe. I remember you bugging me about stuff like that and I totally didn't get it. Gotta love it.
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