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Thursday, January 27, 2005

I Look Like Luka

All I really have to say is, my son is lucky I love him more than 80's music. My name isn't Luka and I don't live on the second floor. And child abuse isn't really funny. But accidental grownup kind is a friggin' riot.

A couple days ago, Lane 1 was getting ready to play in the snow. He had his boots, hat and coat all in place. When I asked him where his gloves were, he realized they were in his coat pocket. I insisted that he put them on as he complained about how tight they are. I offered to help.

This is the point where I, as a mom, need to let the 12-year-old boy figure this stuff out on his own, if nothing else, for my own safety.

I held the left glove in position as he shimmied his hand in. Realizing what a tight fit the gloves were, I made a mental note to pick up a pair of adult size for him.

I held the right glove in place but his hand didn't shimmy as well into this one. I began losing my grip of the glove. He kept pushing his hand, which slipped my grip even more, causing his partially buckled fist to punch me in the eye, hard, really hard.

I felt like one of those cartoon characters with little blue birdies flying around my head. I don't think I have ever been punched in the eye before. That shit hurts!

His jaw dropped, his eyes bulged while filling with tears and he was rendered speechless.

I calmly and silently walked away, which only freaked him out more. He kicked off his boots and ran after me.

"Ma... dude... oh man...Mom?'

My icepack efforts were fruitless, I still wound up with a shiner.

In an effort to mend fences and keep me in good spirits, my darling son played "Eye of the Tiger" and has been calling me Rocky ever since. He's so sweet. I wonder if he knows Rocky eventually kicked Apollo Creed's ass.