The thing about having a super smart little boy is that at the end of the day, he’s still a little boy. Being clever beyond his little years only gives him an edge over me.
3 year olds and edges are a terrible combination.
Keeping up with 3 kids normally requires hyper vigilance. Keeping up with MY three kids, basically requires super powers. Sometimes I get close to being the kind of mom my blog might lead you to believe I am. You know, the good kind. But the truth is any great feat that I manage to achieve is usually soon thereafter countered by some kind of small catastrophe a better mom might have seen coming.
Especially if she weren’t busy flashcard quizzing her infant… or drawing… or peeing, like I always seem to be.
Today, Matthew told me that he locked his sister in her bedroom during her nap. It was fine until I couldn’t find the key. Then it was still fine until she started to cry while I was busy looking. Then it was still fine until I picked up my phone to call Spencer and saw a text message saying that he was injured at work, and in the hospital.
Spencer and I have a running joke that Matthew only pretends to love his sister so that when he actually succeeds in killing her one of these days, it’ll look like the innocent accident of a normal three year old. I’m beginning to think we’re onto something. When his response to my key inquiry via text message was something along these lines, I knew he’d be okay. Apparently he just came close to losing an eye and needed a few stitches.
At this point, any afternoon we all get through alive is considered a success.