Hi, it's me. Mrs. Yoy. I'm still here, I'm just going through some life stresses and it has killed my desire to write.
But here goes nothing...
Big E turned six in November. By my count, he is well on his way to being 6.5, which sounds very old to me. Except he is still completely reliant upon me for most things. I think he is capable of many tasks, but I'm either too impatient or too Type A to allow this to happen.
He was pretty tired after dinner and he wanted to get cleaned up and go to sleep. I told him he was allowed to go upstairs and start a bath for himself while I waited for Little E to finish eating.
Big E made his way upstairs. I heard him walk into the bathroom, flip on the lights, and then CRASH!
And then crying.
I bolted up the stairs. Even though I can barely walk from this morning's workout, I bounded up the stairs two at a time.
Big E was tangled up in the shower curtain. The rod had come out of the wall. He was more frightened than injured.
I began to giggle. Not because I like to see my offspring in distress. But because it took me back many years. At least ten, maybe more.
I had been out drinking with my friends and a bunch of us had come back to our apartment to crash. For one of my friends, who shall remain anonymous, she crashed for real.
She lost her balance in my roommate's bathroom. In a falling panic she reached out for the shower curtain and brought everything down with it. We giggled for hours about it.
And at this moment, as my son is trying to untangle himself from the shower curtain of death, this is all I can think of.