By Staff
Kerry Whipple Bean
Publisher
My son will probably find ways to break my heart many times in the coming years.
Over the weekend, he nearly broke my foot.
How is it possible that a slightly small-for-his-age toddler can inflict such pain?
Elmo.
Over the past few weeks, Elmo has been unwittingly wielded as a weapon in our house.
I bought Christopher an Elmo “telephone,” one that would hopefully keep little fingers away from my own cell phone. The Elmo phone is much more fun than mine; Elmo sings, says he loves us, asks questions about the weather.
Apparently all of that talking means Elmo needs a miniature computer encased in the plastic phone, because it’s awfully heavy — especially when smashed against your cheek when a little boy wants you to talk to Elmo.
I ended up not so much with a black eye but with a bruise that, luckily, faded to a pale yellow, looking as if I’d simply smudged a highlighter under my eye instead of the truth: I was beat up by a toy muppet.
Over the weekend, Christopher, as he is wont to do these days, threw a tantrum — and dropped his Tickle Me Elmo on my foot.
Tickle Me Elmo packs quite a wallop.
Not long ago I read a story about mothers who said that, after carrying their children for nine months and enduring all of the discomfort that entails, they were surprised that more pain happened later.
Apparently I’ve been lucky; some women got broken bones or burns or lacerations, all the result of various accidents with their children.
There is a bright side in all of this, however.
Next time I hear a sound in the middle of the night and ask my husband to investigate, I can send him out armed with Elmo.
Kerry Whipple Bean is publisher of The Brewton Standard. She can be reached at 867-4876 or by e-mail at kerry.bean@brewtonstandard.com.