Flipper
I used to sit down when I wanted to relax. I could turn on a game, grab an artery-impacting snack, and stare at the television motionless for upwards of 90 seconds before flipping to a different game to see if anything more pivotal is happening.
Nowadays when I sit on the couch, I’m immediately mauled by at least one child. Abbie is the most common perpetrator, probably because she has the best mobility and can reach me the quickest, though the boys are doubtlessly taking notes on their sister’s behavior as they search for things within arm’s reach to shove in their mouths.
Sometimes she bugs me to play the bounce game. That’s the one where she climbs into my lap, straddles me with her knees on the couch, and bounces up and down while I lean forward to protect sensitive anatomy from being crushed on the rebound. Inevitably I wrap my hands under her arms to support her, give her extra oomph on the way up, and soften the blow to my crotch on the way down.
Usually when she climbs into my lap she wants to flip. That’s where she straddles my lap as in the bounce game, grabs my hands for support, and leans back until she rolls off my knees and tumbles onto the floor landing feet-first. She then immediately climbs back into my lap generally giggling the entire time like a schoolgirl.
We discovered flipping while in a waiting room a couple months ago. The wait was longer than advertised, the boys were sleeping precariously, and Abbie had bounced off every wall in the room. Desperate for a way to keep her occupied that didn’t involve disturbing other parents or their infinitely better behaved children, I set her on my lap for the bounce game. She didn’t care for my lap, tried to squirm off, and wound up flipping onto the ground. She spent the rest of the wait flipping while I wondered how an office could be a half-hour behind schedule at 10am.
She still loves flipping, and I’m happy to flip her, especially during commercials. At least I was happy to flip her until a couple weeks ago. Recall the post about me worrying that I dislocated her wrist after grabbing it wrong. Despite her screaming, she didn’t suffer any serious injury, though apparently it weakened and has yet to heal. The last couple of flipping sessions have ended with her wrist popping in mid-flip. She then grabs her wrist and screams of agony from a pain that can only be soothed by Goldfish. Sesame Street helps, too.
I’ve tried modifying the flip by holding her higher on the arm, but something keeps popping, and she keeps collapsing in pain. Now I forbid her from flipping for her own good, but she keeps climbing into my lap, grabbing my hands, and slinking backwards. Sometimes I ease her down onto her head, which doesn’t discourage her as much as you might think. Sometimes I just give up and let her flip anyway. It’s endangering her joints, but she enjoys it so much and is so insistent that it can be worth risking a meltdown. Plus that’s the easiest way to get her off my lap when the game comes back from a commercial.
Nowadays when I sit on the couch, I’m immediately mauled by at least one child. Abbie is the most common perpetrator, probably because she has the best mobility and can reach me the quickest, though the boys are doubtlessly taking notes on their sister’s behavior as they search for things within arm’s reach to shove in their mouths.
Sometimes she bugs me to play the bounce game. That’s the one where she climbs into my lap, straddles me with her knees on the couch, and bounces up and down while I lean forward to protect sensitive anatomy from being crushed on the rebound. Inevitably I wrap my hands under her arms to support her, give her extra oomph on the way up, and soften the blow to my crotch on the way down.
Usually when she climbs into my lap she wants to flip. That’s where she straddles my lap as in the bounce game, grabs my hands for support, and leans back until she rolls off my knees and tumbles onto the floor landing feet-first. She then immediately climbs back into my lap generally giggling the entire time like a schoolgirl.
We discovered flipping while in a waiting room a couple months ago. The wait was longer than advertised, the boys were sleeping precariously, and Abbie had bounced off every wall in the room. Desperate for a way to keep her occupied that didn’t involve disturbing other parents or their infinitely better behaved children, I set her on my lap for the bounce game. She didn’t care for my lap, tried to squirm off, and wound up flipping onto the ground. She spent the rest of the wait flipping while I wondered how an office could be a half-hour behind schedule at 10am.
She still loves flipping, and I’m happy to flip her, especially during commercials. At least I was happy to flip her until a couple weeks ago. Recall the post about me worrying that I dislocated her wrist after grabbing it wrong. Despite her screaming, she didn’t suffer any serious injury, though apparently it weakened and has yet to heal. The last couple of flipping sessions have ended with her wrist popping in mid-flip. She then grabs her wrist and screams of agony from a pain that can only be soothed by Goldfish. Sesame Street helps, too.
I’ve tried modifying the flip by holding her higher on the arm, but something keeps popping, and she keeps collapsing in pain. Now I forbid her from flipping for her own good, but she keeps climbing into my lap, grabbing my hands, and slinking backwards. Sometimes I ease her down onto her head, which doesn’t discourage her as much as you might think. Sometimes I just give up and let her flip anyway. It’s endangering her joints, but she enjoys it so much and is so insistent that it can be worth risking a meltdown. Plus that’s the easiest way to get her off my lap when the game comes back from a commercial.
posted by Matt at
11:18 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home