Owies.

Alex and I had a rough weekend.  Not sure why, but he is testing every single boundary with me...more than usual.  By Sunday morning, I was beyond over dealing with it, so I did my own thing and let the boys do stuff without me.  And they had just a dandy day.  Which is great, but is also just kinda an extra shot to the gut.  Not only does my child make life difficult for me, he actively makes it easier on his dad.  Or maybe I make it harder on him and that's why he's better for Trav.  Either way, I end up feeling like a shitty mom.  Thanks kiddo.

Anywho, they were playing tug of war with one of Alex's blanket and having a grand ol' time.  All was going great until Alex's little foot snuck juuuuust under the edge of the chair Travis was sitting on just at the same time Travis was leaning forward.  Squish!  It had to hurt like hell.  Normally Alex is a pretty tough kid, but he faaaareaked out.  He just kept crying while violently shaking his hands like he really needed to rapid dry some kickin' nail polish.

I sat with him and put ice on his foot.  He was crying and yelling and I told him I was sorry and that it was an accident.  It seemed as though in that moment he was associating pain level with accident status because he just kept screaming that it WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT!  There was no amount of assurance in the world to convince that kid that is was an accident.  He was so certain in fact, that he kept repeating it in the car on the way to the grocery store.  I finally told him I had heard enough and that Daddy did not mean to hurt him.  And he responded by very quietly saying to no one in particular, "it wasn't an accident."  And with that Trav just cranked the radio up.

Then when we got home from the store, I asked if his foot felt better and tried to jokingly give him kisses while he was still buckled in his car seat.  He angrily deployed the nail polish drying move in defense and gouged my chin.  I let out a big ol' OW! to which he quickly responded, "I don't want any kisses."  Yeah.  I got that.  But you didn't have to get violent on my face.  And then as I was telling him he hurt me, he not so sincerely said he was sorry.  I called him out on his insincerity as soon as he said it; which was simultaneous to the realization my chin was bleeding.  And that's when he started crying.

If this is what a 3&1/2 year old boy is like, there is no way I could handle a teenage girl.