Perspective

It's all about perspective, or so they say.

It  is a lesson that I learned, yet again, this afternoon.

Squirming away from the inevitable, El wrenched her little body left and right as I attempted to place the diaper on her cute little bottom. 

"C'mon El!  A little cooperation please?!?"

El giggled, thinking that I was playing a game, and wriggled left once more.  And, with that last move, she was free, and I was now the warden trying to  catch the escaped convict.  I lunged after her quick little frame, but as I zigged, El turned and zagged directly toward me.  All of her 30 pounds of love landed squarely on my fingers of my left hand, bending them backward to an angle that only Stretch Armstrong should attempt.  Instantly, I let out a yelp and doubled over, holding my injured digits against my stomach.

"Yaaaaaaaaaoooooooooww!"  I wailed as I rocked back and forth.  "This hurts!"

Instantly, I heard the patter of feet running toward me.  It was E.  He knelt down before me, looked up into my scowling face and said sweetly, "Mom,  is this it?  Are you having another baby?"

And before I could speak, he promptly lifted up my shirt, ran his hand over my belly, and pronounced, "Nope!  You're still flat!"  Then he hopped up, kissed my forehead, and was off again to play.  

So, mom gets hurt, and all E can think of is . . ."Uh oh!  Better check for my competition!" Pretty soon he'll be asking me if I have P.M.S.  when I yell at him to pick up his toys. Perspective.  Male perspective.

It can create some interesting situations.

At least I had the opportunity to laugh, even though I was crying.  

It is one of my favorite emotions.