Owy is never a good word...

"Owy, owy, owy, ooooowwwwww!"

This is never a good sound when you're making supper and the scream is coming from another room.  If you're me and it's coming from your children, you calmly tell yourself that supper is now postponed and a trip to the hospital is in order. 

I'm serious.  My kids are tough… like, superhero tough.  Like, all three are running full speed in the house and manage to run into a wall, get up and do it again kind of tough.  The two year old can be lying of the ground and the seven year old will jump on her and she'll look at him and scream… not in pain… in anger… because he made her drop her pony.  That kind of tough.  Or the five year old will jump off of his bed, trip, and smash his face into the floor, then show his siblings how to do it just like he did.

When one of my kids is screaming owy at the top of his lungs, I know it's not going to be a good sight.  Owy means skin is missing, blood is flowing, or body parts are no longer bent in the proper direction. (thankfully, the latter has only happened once and it was a toe.  Toes are a minor body part, so I'm not even sure if it bears mentioning).

So tonight when I heard that dreadful word, I took a deep breath, and headed into my bedroom which was where the horrible sound was coming from.  This usually means a wrestling match gone wrong. My kids have a great time trying to kill each other.  It happens every day and I've given up on trying to stop them.  I'd never clean, I'd never eat, hell, I'd never be able to have a shit if I was trying to keep it from happening.  Survival of the fittest is the law in my house and so far, the three of them seem pretty well matched. 

I heard my daughter jump off the bed and scramble to her bedroom.  I heard another thump as one of the boys jumped to the ground.  This left the five year old screaming at the top of his lungs, so I knew who was the object of today's assasination attempt. 

My first instinct when I walked into the room was to start yelling.  I opened my mouth, took a deep breath, and stopped.  I was speechless.  And then I started to laugh, because, well, it was funny as hell (though apparantly not to Emery who had his head wedged between the matress and the boxspring of my bed).  That's right.  Today's attempted murder was by means of head squishing.  Somehow, this was fun (I never did get a straight answer as to how or why Emery thought it was a good idea to let his siblings put his head between the matresses) .  Stick brother's head in matresses and jump.  Sure, I can see the logic in that.

After freeing my son and making sure that his skull was still intact, we had a small group discussion as to why it is a bad idea to squish your brother's head between two objects of any kind.  The three of them ran downstairs (to plan their next assassination, I'm sure), and I went back to making supper, shaking my head while thinking to myself that today was a good day. No bent body parts, no missing skin, hell, not even a drop of blood to wipe off the floor. 

So, let me rephrase that.  Today was not good.  It was fantastic. :)Hahahaha!  Stay safe, everyone!

:)  Mireille