This is a story I have been meaning to post for awhile, but somehow I got sidetracked. Hmmmm.
A few weeks ago, I bought Sam a new pair of Pj's. They have jets and planes and other super cool flying things. He looks adorable in them. (I realize as I am writing this, there will come a day when S will not appreciate me telling stories like this!) Anyway, the Jammies were a hit. "Wicked cool, Mom!"
One morning, not a morning that I will include on my "Mother of The Year" application, I was... well... on the phone while S was playing. Like any mom, I am fairly skilled at multi-tasking... so, I was on the phone, got S breakfast, made coffee, on the phone, put out his clothes for the day, on the phone, changed over laundry, asked S to get dressed, on the phone. Get the picture? (Lelsie, what were we talking about that morning??)
While I was folding laundry, on the phone, Sam came into my room in tears. He was having trouble getting his Pj top off because the Band-Aid on his elbow (from a nasty bike fall!) was sticking to it and was hurting him as he tried to pull it off. Easy enough, no problem. Prop phone to shoulder and remove shirt gently from pussy elbow. No. Screams and tears. "Moooooommmmmyyyyy! Stop, it huurrrrrtttts! This is an emergency! Call the fire department!" Did you giggle a little? So did I. Poor, precious boy. He had me in a fit of giggles, while on the phone, and I had to turn away. When I regained my composure, he had retreated to his room. Truly, I believed he has just decided to take care of it himself. (He did.... you will soon see.)
I went about my this and that's. including checking the mail, receiving a Kodak photo book, flipping through that, (yes... same conversation going on all along), and then... that realization. It is way too quiet upstairs.
What did I find? My son. Sitting bare bottom at his desk. One half of his Pj top off, draped over his neck. The picture unfolds... sitting, the offending sleeve still stuck in place... (but not for long) as he was worked feverishly with a pair of Friskar scissors to cut the other sleeve OFF. Yes, he was cutting it off. He had taken matters into his own hands, and I can not blame him. When the reality of what I was seeing sunk in, I did what any mother would do: I hung up the phone, and I hugged my boy.