Managing Kids (or damage)

"How do you manage two kids?"

Usually when a fellow parent asks that type of question it is loaded enough to be a spitball. There is usually adoration at multiple children marching in a straight line or accusation of two kids running amok and causing havoc.

Not with the kind faced woman holding a small child's hand (age 2, I am getting good at this).

She was generally curious. Probably because Tyler was nestled away snugly in a baby swing while older Sienna pushed him while singing to him.

Note: Sienna is a mature nurturing child and Danielle and I take no credit for this.

I had asked the question years before of a rather distraught looking mother - totally admiring at the time how she had one child stuffed under her arm like a piece of luggage while pulling a second wailing child along.

Her answered had been a distraught, "I'm not sure I wouldn recommend it." Rather honest in the land of Brooklyn where child worship has become an art form.

"You don't." I said it with a smile so she would not think me flippant. Though really the next part of the statement failed that test, "you try to keep them from hurting each other accidentally."

Which brought to my mind my father's words when I told him the second child was on the way. "Follow them around with spackling to fill in the holes in the walls when they break things."

"Really?" Her eyes widened.

I shrugged. "Sure..."

I told her the story of earlier that day when Tyler tried to grab Sienna's Doc McStuffin's cell phone. Sienna gave him a well placed kick to his chest to get him away.

"Would you recommend it?" That was her follow up question.

"Kind of late to take it back."

Really though it is like managing chaos. You hope for the best, try to teach some manners, and feed them enough so they don't turn on you.

Though instead if spackling I follow them with a screwdriver - both really like taking things apart. Not so much management as damage control.

Try It By Yourself

"Come on, she's not that hurt."

My wife gave me a well-deserved glare as I held my crying three and a half year old daughter Sienna in my arms.

"She has a huge scratch of her arm." Danielle's glare didn't waver. My wife is a rational woman; when she gives me a glare I tend to deserve it.

It was Danielle who had the bird's eye view of Sienna plunging from her her kneeling position on my shoulders.

"Do you need Daddy's hand?" I had asked her half a second before.

"No." She said it with confidence as she placed a hand on my head as she balanced herself as she readied herself to stand on my shoulders and then leap into our couch as she has done a hundred times before.

I was kneeling before the couch. I am not crazy enough to have her climb my back and leap from too far a height. Sure I was aware that her nightgown covered her knees, that it hindered her usual leaping ability...but Sienna is a great climber.

Sure it was an extra jump onto the couch. When I had offered her a pre-bed time plunge she looked at me and asked, "Two?"

Jump one was perfect . Though my encouragement - turning into father for a moment with the words, "You can try it yourself! You're good."

When he gave me the encouragement I had ended up falling off my bike into a cement wall.

Sienna had declined during her first leap. Now she was pushing herself...

Half a second after she answered she plunged backward. A small thump followed by a loud thump punctuated by Danielle's "Jesus" as she stared in my general direction.

I am okay when one of my children - I have a 14 month old son Tyler - falls and cry. Silence is far worse, not to mention you expect to see a pile of blood.

I turned my attention to my crying daughter. Whoops. Sienna had fallen against the ottoman.

"Did she hit that?" The answer was obvious as she was leaning against the ottoman.

I examined her arm. A large scratch. I had her move it around to make sure it wasn't broken.

She was fine. "I'm bleeding." Through tear streaked eyes she looked at her arm.

"Merely a scratch." It isn't like bone was sticking out.

Danielle left the room to take care of party animal Tyler as he decided to let us know that since it was only 820 he should be with us.

"You hurt or mad?" It is a question I've learned to ask Sienna because most of her tears is because she is pissed. Sake with Tyler. He bounced his head of a headboard the other day and gave a guttural yelp as he raged as though he had been attacked rather than losing his balance and falling.

"Mad."

"You want to climb back up and jump?"

Sienna stopped crying. "Well yeah."

She climbed back up, asking for a hand. As she climbed back off she asked a simple question, "One more?"