This morning, I enjoyed a very pleasant episode of quasi-gardening with young Jack and even younger James. I say "quasi" because with these two trundling about, I get precious little actual gardening done. I kind of like it that way.
During the fun, I noted once again my uncanny ability to start conversations and improvised games that tend toward dangerous outcomes. I don't mean to -- it just seems that I always hit on interactions that are unbearably attractive to the five and under set, and which, if left untended, will lead to death and dismemberment. Mind you, nothing so bad as "let's see what happens when we stick our hands down the garbage disposal," but seriously, not too far off that either.
Aware of my tendency, I've been trying to be just a bit more cognizant of where these things can head and nip it in the bud, however clumsily.
So this morning, Jack had picked up a toy rake and inserted the handle through the links in our chain link fence. So, naturally, I had to try to grab at it whilst he tried to pull it back. A few repetitions of this game, and soon the rake was flailing in the air.
Aha! I thought. This is not good. This will lead to injury. I am the grown-up. I can make it stop.
So, said I to Jack, "Let's not wave the rake in the air." He stopped, rake in air, staring at me. "Because," I continued on, "It could hurt someone. It could fly over and hit someone on the head. And that would not be good."
Jack calmly brought rake down, and deadpanned, "I didn't ask you why."
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