Last night Anna and I were playing a fruitless game she likes to play called "I'm stronger than you, mom". One day, when I'm old[er] and gray[er], I'm sure she will actually succeed, but for now my "mom guns" continue to win out over her wiry, almost-7-year-old biceps.
I could let her win, but I'm a firm believer in letting your kids experience the agony of defeat on occasion. It builds character ;) And it teaches them that life is not free buffet; you have to earn most things in life.
Anyway, back to bedtime. Anna is trying to move my hand to her face so she can stick my finger up her nose. I fight her with hardly any effort at all, and So, Anna decides that in order to lift my right arm off of her bed that she will need to counter my strength by throwing her whole body backwards... into my face.
I was moved, so to speak, and my right hand moved alright; it moved to my mouth and nose in pain. I learned a thing or two last night as Newton's Laws of Motion played themselves out in WWE-esque musical of pain.
I groaned "Ahhhhhhh! Oh my God!" while clutching my nose. I got up and flipped on the light after the stars subsided and checked out my face in the mirror on her closet door. Anna started to tear up as I calmly said that I had bitten my lip, and that my lip was starting to swell. Then I noticed a piece of something gritty on my lip as I licked back a tiny bit of blood.
Me- "Oooh, I think I chipped my tooth."
Anna- "Waaaaaah! It's all my fault!...."
Me- "I'm OK... that tooth was already chipped anyway."
Anna- *sniff* "I'm sorry I hurt you mommy." *cries a little bit more* "I didn't do it on purpose."
Me- "I know you didn't do it on purpose. It's OK, stop crying. If I thought you had done it on purpose I'd be really mad right now. Do I look mad?"
She shakes her head no, and sniffles a bit more.
Me- "See? I'm fine." I tilt my head back because I feel something wet in my nose, and I have a gander in her mirror, "Oh man, I think I have a bloody nose..."
Anna- *her eyes get really big* "....Waaaaaaaaaaaah!"
I chuckle as I stuff a tissue up my nose, then give my girl a hug, all while trying to convince her that I'm not upset and that I have survived much worse than this. I realize that life really is like a buffet, you just have to decide if the last chicken wing is worth the bloody nose and chipped tooth.
I'm guessing as I get older that I will give up the last chicken wing in hopes of getting a table closer to the bathroom. Besides, by then I will have had all my teeth knocked out and will be opting for pudding instead.
But for now, that darned chicken wing is all mine.