Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Shrewdness (03/07/05)
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TITLE: Quitting Time | Previous Challenge Entry
By Amy Miller
03/10/05 -
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The days were long and often left me exhausted. Caring for two children under the age of one was no easy task. Feeding time became a stampede of screeching cries as I latched one to the breast and propped another to the bottle. Unfortunately, Gunner preferred mommy’s breasts as well, which became my first challenge. The lung power this kid had, simply amazed me as my head began to swell counting the minutes to my relief. But I never let on and always smiled cheerfully when they came to pick him up after a long twelve hour day.
As time went on the nuttier I became. I had to get out of the house. Day after day of constant crying, holding, feeding and burping made me look worse than a mangy old cat.
I managed to pick up a double stroller and although it took almost an hour to get ready, I ventured out the door only to get a whiff of Gunner’s little surprise. Sometimes I wondered what they fed this kid. Poop stinks, yes, but this was beyond stinky and the color was like none I had seen. With high hopes of seeing the outside world and actually talking to adults, I quickly held my breath, wiped his little cheeks and even smiled though annoyed with his timing. He cooed back as his little hose squirted me right in the face. Let’s just say we didn’t make it out that day.
Gunner’s cute pudgy appearance was sadly mistaken for innocence with a touch of charm. But I knew his shrewd, little tactics and as he grew older the uglier he got. Gunner’s first words were “no”. Oh how the parents were concerned and thought maybe I was too hard on him. I explained that hitting my son with a metal toy car was not appropriate behavior. I sensed that our parenting skills were quite different. I would work consistently all day teaching Gunner not to touch the stereo, VCR, TV, teaching him crayons are for paper and not to climb on the kitchen table, no hitting, no throwing, no biting, no spitting and so on. The minute Gunner’s dad walked in the door the important lessons I taught him were suddenly forgotten. As Gunner smirked in my direction, he began pushing the buttons on the stereo and spitting, knowing that my hands were tied. Silently, I struck him down with a scornful stare as to say “You wait till tomorrow little boy”.
Somehow this two year old, brown eyed boy knew how to make the hairs on my neck stand straight up and no matter how smooth the day would start; Gunner had something to say or do to make me flip my lid. Each day left me with new surprises knowing this child had a mind of his own, one much different than that of an average two year old.
Today’s adventure was sure to put me over the edge when I had a crazy thought of making a quick trip to the store. I unbuckled their car seats grabbed my son and put him in the cart, went to grab Gunner when the van began to move. I looked over and to my surprise Gunner managed to pull the stick shift out of gear. I quickly climbed in the van and put it back in gear, all the while scolding Gunner. My heart was pounding from the excitement and almost popped out of my chest as I sat in the driver’s seat watching my child rolling down the parking lot. With Gunner huddled under my arms I began chasing the rolling cart in hopes to catch it before it crashed. I quickly jumped ahead of the cart to soften the impact. With a few bumps and bruises I called it a day and headed home leaving me standing here, cold, tired and utterly defenseless. “Gunner, open the door right this minute!”
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