Next up in my October Crappy Collaboration* series is Beth Woolsey.
She writes at Five Kids is a Lot of Kids. She has five kids. Which is a lot.
I “met” her when we were pitted up against each other in a silly contest. (We became friends rather than enemies because that is the way we roll.) She is so dang funny and real and sincere that she will be discovered any minute. And by “discovered” I mean the book she is writing will be bought by a publisher and then fame and fortune and castles and islands will follow. Or I don’t know, whatever she wants. Certainly a book though.
*Crappy Collaborations are my way to share some of my favorite, funny parenting writers. They wrote the words, I drew the pictures.
Here is Beth’s post, with my crappy pictures…
There’s Something About Cai, By Beth Woolsey
©2009-2012, Beth Woolsey; illustrations ©2012, Amber Dusick
I was half way down the stairs, one three-year-old in hand, when the screaming from the other three-year-old started.
I immediately knew the cause.
Seconds earlier, Cai had unzipped his footed pajamas, and he was in the process of zipping them back up so he could come downstairs with me.
You can see where this is headed, right?
Here’s what I heard:
“Mama, mama, mama, mama. Wait for me! I coming!”
…and what should’ve ended in “…iiipp,” was cut short and ended in cries of pain.
I was already dashing back up the stairs when my eyes confirmed what my ears already knew.
Cai had zipped a bit of his penis into his PJ’s.
I don’t know why, exactly, but I really never expected to have a There’s Something About Mary moment with one of my sons.
So I did what any reasonable mother would do, and I unzipped him.
The injury wasn’t so bad. Honest. Just a little red sore.
But Cai was confused, bewildered and definitely offended on his penis’s behalf.
Some parents offer a cookie or a lollipop in similar situations. It distracts the child, cuts short the crying, and it’s soothing. Not wanting to pass along eating issues, though, we don’t use this approach. Ever ever ever.
So I bundled Cai on my lap and sat right there on the top step to rock him, and he started to cry and to chant.
Sob. Sob. “My penis is NOT OK.” (Emphasis on NOT OK.)
Sob. Sob. “My penis is NOT OK.”
Sob. Sob. “My penis is NOT OK.”
Thus ensued bereft wailing and gnashing of teeth. If we had had rags and ashes to hand, Cai would have donned them.
We spent the next several minutes with the ritual chant resounding throughout the house. And eventually, Cai wound down to the sniffles. Sniffle. “My penis…” shudder… “isnotOK.” Sniffle.
I was able to slow the rocking a bit. We finally moved downstairs to the couch. Twin brother Cael got in a few hugs and awkwardly adorable pats to his brother’s head to express his sympathy.
And then, when Cai was able to speak again some 30 minutes later, he said,
And just when I thought the situation was improving.
How exactly do you explain to a three-year-old that Mommy’s magical healing kiss powers come with certain use clauses and limitations?
I went with the simplest approach.
Run, don’t walk to the hilarious blog Five Kids is a Lot of Kids because she is awesome and I said so. Really, I think you’ll enjoy it.
You can also say hi to Beth on Facebook. If enough of you do it, she will surely owe me another beer. (Yes, that is correct, she already owes me one but I’ll have to go to Portland to get it. Totally worth it.)