The best friend claims I'm a good story teller. It probably has more to do with my dramatic nature than my writing abilities. Here's a story I thought I would share that is funny ONLY looking back because at the time...I was NOT laughing!
A couple of days ago, I had some work done on my big toe. It is now bandaged, throbbing and hard to walk on it. I have been forced to roll up my pants on the left side so the pants do not rub the toe. Put this all together and you can image me, one pant leg rolled up, with a big white banadaged toe. Got that image? Pretty right?
My 2 year old is an escape artist. He climbed out of his crib at an early age. He escaped playpens. And now, that he has figured out how to unlock doors, he escapes the house. Oh what fun!
Ok, so you have the image of me, representing the 90s version of LL COOL J with my pants roled up and an injured toe producing a minor limp. I am in the kitchen doing the dishes and I hear the lock click. Usually, I can catch him before he darts out the door...but not today. Today, my limp forces me to slow down and I barely catch him fleeting down the stairs to freedom. And this time, he had helped, the dog.
I run outside, and these two little creatures, one weighing 5 pounds, the other maybe 25, are running around like lightning...they are darting between my legs, running behind bushes, evading me at all costs to remain free birds. The 2 year old is running like he's hyped up on 100 pounds of chocolate, laughing hysterically...at me I think. I think I heard "NanaNana BooBoo" a few times. And the little shitzu puppy all of a sudden turned into underdog, able to leap tall buildings in one bounce.
I finally catch the 2 year old. I place him on my hip and he yells "NOOOOO!" like I'm taking him inside and he will never see the light of day again. But then his attitude quickly changed when he noticed that his sidekick was still free. He still had hope. He begins yelling "Run puppy" and laughing. At me, again!
Our outside dog, a loyal 8 year old weirmeraner, has pity on me and helps me wrangle the little tiny puppy. He blocks him in the corner of the flower bed and I finally grab him only to realize that since it rained last night and his legs are about 3 inches long, his entire underside is drenched and now, so am I.
So me (a soaked, tired, pained, LL Cool J impersonator), the 2 year old who quite enjoyed his brief escape to freedom and underdog have now all been cleaned, reprimanded & sent to our respective areas. Shew, what a day!
Oh, and did I forget to mention this all happened before lunch?? :)