Sometimes the Boy seems to have a pathological aversion to quiet and order, and sometimes he has to go to extreme measures to get the chaos he apparently craves. Today, unsatisfied after a the morning spent scattering a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle to the wind and upending bottles of glue onto the coffee table, he decided to pick up a pump bottle of Deep Woods Off and unload a hefty squirt directly into his own face.
High-test bug spray, kids. 25% DEET, right in the peepers.
Well, now that would do it, wouldn’t it?
Scooped him up, cleared the kitchen counter with one crockery-smashing sweep of the arm, and laid him down on his back with his head over the sink, pouring cool water from a hastily-rinsed coffee cup over his face, again and again and again as he screamed and spluttered and protested. The hardest part was keeping his hands pinned so he couldn’t rub his eyes.
He’s a stubborn child, our Sam, and he didn’t want any of it. He’s not a kid who runs to Mom and Dad when he’s hurt, and he will not acquiesce to being comforted if it offends his dignity. Which makes it a little difficult to maintain a calm, soothing tone while trying to minister to him.
Somehow, it all seemed horribly familiar.
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