While I was making dinner tonight Billy was playing in the kitchen. We now have a drawer beneath the wall over that houses all of our tupperware. Billy has decided to love pulling all of the pieces out and then putting them all back in the drawer. It's great fun. I would prefer if the drawer would stay neat and the items clean, but well, he can't break them. Better than playing with the pyrex or juggling knives, right?
Why is it that kids always hurt themselves as soon as you turn your back? It's like Murphy's Law, only this is kid specific. I think I'm going to call it Billy's Law: Billy will attempt feats of near certain death any time my attention is distracted.
So, anyway Billy was playing with the tupperware and I was measuring out ingredients. Pause. Moment of silence followed by screaming. Yep. It's the silent part when you know you're in for it. Quiet equals trouble.
What happened? Contrary to popular belief, I don't actually have eyes in the back of my head. So, I didn't see it happen. But I'm pretty sure that he slammed his hand in the drawer and in the process of trying to remove the owie, slammed his head into the oven. At least we weren't at the old house with the old oven- he would have been burned on his face. (Of course, knowing that oven was a safety hazard I never let Billy near it).
He got an owie on his hand and his forehead. He cried and cried until he suddenly saw a new toy and ran over to it, completely forgetting his pain. The only remnant was the red splotchy mark where I iced his head.
In other news he is now official a Two. They have moved him up at daycare. But, Billy... you're still a One to me.