Crawling... Again?

Well that was weird.

I'm entirely sure how I ended up doing that.

My knees hurt. Fool.

During the normal morning madness.

Mrs. Amazing was busy convincing Miss5, that clothes are actually, very much, an requirement for school, and the UK at the start of march. (It even crap snowed today) (Crap snow is snow that doesn't settle).

Miss5 was slowly relenting and had even consented to having her crazy mane de-tangled.

(If you don’t hear from me every five minutes, start wafting pie smell after me…)

Boy8 was busy getting ready.

Not for school. Oh no. Nothing that obv. 

Why would he get ready for school on a school day through his own free will?

<Screams into cushion>

Despite all of us rushing about to get to work and / or school on time. Boy8 was getting ready for his mate who was coming for tea tonight. He was laying out his toys ready. They were going to have a Nerf war.

Which basically means Boy8 was laying out guns. On his bed.

I had mixed feelings about it.

On the one hand I totally understood his need to prepare and lay out his toys ready for his mate. I put beers in the fridge when a mate is coming round, find the Yahtzee dice, make sure everyone else is either asleep or going out... 

But on the second hand I wasn't too happy that BabyBoy1 was with Boy8 and lots of cocked Nerf guns. BabyBoy1 doesn't understand the danger of guns on any level. 

In an almost comic style BabyBoy1 was inspecting each gun backwards, looking into the barrel.

Boy8 pointed out they weren't loaded. 

Which they were not. I checked.

I said that was good, but it would be better if he didn't cock them either.

He disagreed for the last time.

And on the third, mutated weird ass, hand.

Boy8 was still hanging about in his tiger onesie, miles behind the rest of us getting ready to leave.

As I said mixed feelings: Sort of anger, amazement, murderous rage, fear and a slight tinge of gassiness. But that was probably the pint of sweets I had the night before.

All those feelings mixed together. JOY!

But I was cool. HEY! 

I made my point about the cocking of guns in a mature and grown up fashion.

Dude don't cock the guns, it ain't cool

Boy8: ‘Is’

It is not (ZING!)

‘Is’

Is not times infinity, not come backs, infinity add one, you can't talk until someone says your name, cross your pants, you need the loo, opps you've done a poo (BOOMPOW!)

<Knows he has been beaten> ‘Fine’

<Does victory dance>

(Next time... I'll just show him my mug...)

I played it cool.

Rather than nag or whip cajole Boy8 to get ready. I just left him to it.

He had thirty mins. He had time. Me shouting at him, was just going to annoy me.

I KNOW I am starting to think he likes winding me up.

So me and BabyBoy1 left the armoury Boy8’s room and headed downstairs.

For some reason we started playing with a bouncy ball in the kitchen. Fun mainly.

Looking back it seems a strange choice of toy as BabyBoy1 has just started throwing toys in anger, and for attention. So I doubt my choice of game went down to well in the Mrs. Amazing camp, as she spends most of the day in his delightful company. Whoops.

I fished a bouncy ball out a classic Miss5 treasure bag. There's always one within two metre radius, anywhere in the house.

You just have to know what to look for. A bag of crap.

The weird bit was that BabyBoy1 crawled after the ball.

He's been walking for a while now. So why would he crawl?

He's way faster on foot. Maybe he had just fallen into a crawl and remembered an old skill he had and just on whim thought it would be a laugh.

Then when I started crawling behind, and we giggled, I perpetuated it, and he couldn't stop as it became part of the game.

I like to think it was that, as we had great fun chasing that ball about, in a few stolen morning moments together.

It was nice.

Because if it's not that.

If it’s not by accident lie reason, the it’s pretty likely that BabyBoy1 saw just how much crawling was hurting my knees and he thought it was funny. And that he was faster than me at it.

Hmmm…

<Makes note next to BabyBoy1’s name> Possible sadist…fast crawler...

Boy8 was ready for school on time. He can sleep inside some more! 

Ignoring his glacial slowness this morning was a good move by me, a rare splodge of wisdom, on my part. It saved a fight.

It was bloody hard not to order him about and tell him he was being a fool.

But I'm glad I refrained.

Of course it was only after I had dropped off Miss5 at school that I noticed my knees and the bottom half of my jeans were covered in breakfast food, and general muck from the crawling.

I like to make a good impression.
<Makes note next to own name> Could possibly sweep more… appearance issues...

(My note book... I also write my poems in it...)

Dear Legs

Dear legs,

I'm sorry. 

<Fights back tears>

I'm sorry for all the hurt and pain I have caused you. 

I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust and let you down. We've had so many wonderful times together you and I. You mean so much to me. You literally take me places.

I wish I could change what I've done. I wish I could change what happened and we could go back to like it was before. No one was supposed to get hurt, it was only meant to be a bit of fun. It wasn't planned. It just... happened. 

<Sniffs>

(Harmless fun…)

I woke up that morning and thought, yeah, let’s go for a jog. I’ll take Boy8 with me, that’ll burn off some of his grumpy extra energy. 

It seemed like a good idea...

I realise now, as I write this, that jogging isn't something I normally do. In fact have ever done. 
I have a car, a bike, a scooter, a teleporter. I don’t need to jog.

Why that day? 

Why that morning? 

I don’t know.

Boy8 was so super keen to go with me, he just made it easier.

Oy smeg face Boy8!

I’m going for a jog before work, if want to come, be ready when I am

<Looks stunned at me>

'Dad, it’s 6:30 am'

Yes I am aware what the clock says

'But you’re awake and making sense, and not shouting'

<Grumbles off>

Amazingly Boy8 was ready when I was and after reluctantly letting the cat in, we went out into the cold morning, a light rain falling, and started to jog.

I'm sorry legs, I know this must be hard to read. 

I just feel that if I can explain myself you’ll understand what happened better and be able to forgive me sooner.

We stretched before we left. Well I did. I was careful. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, especially me. We were only gone ten minutes. We just jogged, and talked.

Boy8 found the morning world fascinating to see. He loved seeing all the street lights lit, the dew still soaking the world. And I loved just chatting to him like two mates as we jogged around the park. We bonded.

I should have noticed then. I should have seen that when we got back he wasn't even slightly out of breath. He was still full of energy. That was my clue, and like the smuck I am, I missed it.

If we had left it there, no one would have been hurt. Me and Boy8 would have a nice memory of that day when I went mad and we jogged and everyone would have carried on, as though nothing had happened.

You legs, didn't even mention that first time. You were amazing. Not a single complaint. No gripes, no twinges, you took it in your stride (!) and never said a word.

<Sobs>

If only you’d had said something...

We jogged again the next day. Yes I know you know, I am just trying to explain. 

I felt great, Boy8 was happy too. 
We chatted and talked about life. My blood was pumping and I was bonding with Boy8 through excise. It felt good. It felt right.

I don't regret going out again that next day. I don't think Boy8 has ever got dressed that quick in his whole life. He was excited just to go out for a jog with me.

It was as we got close to home... the badness happened.

<Pulls self back together>

We were nearly home. 

I could see our house and all we had to do was gently walk home and everything would have been fine. But no. That isn't what I did, is it?

<Looks to heavens>

I raced him.

It was my idea. ‘Race you back to the house pants breath’ I said as I sped off.

How did I forget I'm 30-Lots and it was 6:30 am. 

That’s not my best time of day at all. Or best age.

I raced off confident in my victory. 

But then Boy8 did something that surprised me. I wasn't expecting it. He caught me up.

As I glanced to my side and saw Boy8 easily matching my strides I thought no.

NO bloody way!

Not yet. I am not ready for Boy8 to beat me in a race yet. No!

Not yet.

And that’s when the damage was done. 

<Whimpers>

I asked too much of you, legs. 

I knew you had more to give. I pushed and pushed. Made you give every single ounce of energy we had. You responded like a stallion and pulled on every muscle and sinew you had. I don’t think we have moved that fast in a long time. We ran as though our very pride was on the line.

<Fans tears from eyes>

And still we lost. Boy8 won. 

<Hangs head>

I thought he would be older when this happened. Me too.

Boy8 overtook me without really trying. He was even smiling as he did it.

(I am fine with being the very competitive additional winner...)

Boy8 celebrated and even did a little victory dance.

Well actually a long and excessive victory dance to be honest. It was tempting to deck him. But I didn't, people were watching it felt wrong.

Instead I patted his shoulder and wheezed ‘well done’, before limping home.

I know you are cross and are hurting, legs. 

I can feel it in my every movement today. I sound like a dramatic pirate every time I sit down at work.

Arrrrrrr

Oooooo

Eeeeeeeee

Arrrrrggggghhhh

<Trips over own sword>

(That’s gonna leave a mark...)

Maybe, though legs, you could lighten up a little on me. 

You were there too. You joined in.
So lets just forget about all that lactic acid, muscle pain, and just move on with our lives.

Next time we'll prepare better, we'll practice. 

Eight year old's have little stamina and find running up hill exhausting. Their legs aren't strong enough yet. Next race? 
Up hill, jumping tyres, with a back pack full of balloons, and at least a 1/10 mile.
#GonnaWin

With kindest regards,

Body Overlord, Dictator for life, Grand Decision maker,

Brainzilla X