Toddler Take-Down

I hated to make the call, but I knew I had to. She picked up on the first ring and sounded a little sleepy.

“Jane?” I asked, like someone else might be answering her phone. “Did I wake you?”

“What time is it?” she said, and then added, “No, you didn’t wake me. Just had my nose in a book. I feel like I’ve been sitting in this airport forever.”


“It’s just past six here. Hey, I’ve got a little problem. The sub I had scheduled for tomorrow just called. Her daughter has some sort of cootie and she won’t be able to cover for me, so I’m going to have to work. We can still go out after, but the hanging out all day thing is a no-go. I’m really sorry. I feel like a jackass, but I’ve called everyone I know, and nada.”

“I could just hang with you at the daycare,” she offered. “You know, sing songs, read books, dance a little. I do a mean hokey-pokey.”

I laughed. “You’d be more than welcome, but I’m sure there are more entertaining ways for you to spend your first day here. We’re fifteen minutes from downtown, with all its museums, shopping, and deep dish pizza. I’ve got stinky diapers and fish sticks. It’s no contest, really.”

“You’re right, it’s no contest. I’ll take the hokey-pokey and fish sticks, but I’ll pass on the diapers. Hey, you’re not trying to get out of karaoke, are you? Because we had a deal.”

I laughed again. Jane was being a really good sport. “Nope. You, me, karaoke, Friday night. I’m gonna need a drink or four, but I’m in. And we do have a deal, so I’d better not click on your Facebook page and find a video of my drunken rendition of, hey, what are we going to sing?”

She chuckled. “We’ll figure it out. You’ve really never sung karaoke before? Ever? Amazing. Well, nothing, and I mean nothing, will get you out of it this time. Oh hey, I’ve gotta go. It’s time to board. I’ll see you soon.”

“We’ll be there!” I answered. I was pumped. In just a couple hours, I’d be meeting Jane. I’d felt an immediate connection to her the first time I visited her blog, and now she was coming to visit! I tried not to think about the public singing thing I’d foolishly agreed to. Don’t get me wrong, I like to sing. In the car or in my house. With a gaggle of little kids, even, but not in front of adults with discerning ears. Not since high school chorus, anyway, but Jane is very convincing. Okay, it was an ultimatum, and I caved.

A few hours after the call ended, my hubby pulled up along the curb. As he hoisted Jane’s giant suitcase into the trunk, he looked at me, groaned, and said, “One more thing you two have in common. You pack everything you own to go away for a weekend.”

Jane shrugged and looked a little sheepish, but I raised my eyebrows and gave her the look that says don’t worry, he’s just messin’ with you. By the time we got to the house, Jane seemed comfortable and I think all three of us felt as though we’d known each other forever. We hung out for a while, but I broke up the party saying that I’d be knee deep in kids in only a matter of hours, so we called it a night.

It turns out that Jane is a natural with kids. They swarmed her all morning and elbowed one another aside to get a coveted spot on her lap during story time and to hold one of her hands as they boogied during our daily dance party. Oh, and Jane wasn’t kidding—she really does do a mean hokey-pokey. She had the kids giggling like crazy when she sang out, “Put your tushies in, put your tushies out, put your tushies in and shake ‘em all about!”

One little guy was especially fond of Jane, and it was clear that she had a soft spot for him, too. Not quite two, Little Man has a halo of soft blonde ringlets and huge blue eyes. I’m not the only one who’s ever told his mom that someday some woman is going to fall in love with those eyes. To be honest, I think a bunch already have.

As I brought out the lunch trays, Little Man held onto Jane’s pant leg and smiled up at her. “Miss Jane help me?” he asked in his sweetest voice.

Jane sat beside Little Man and guided him as he attempted to spike bits of chicken with his fork and scoop applesauce onto his spoon. Usually a notoriously picky eater, Little Man gobbled up the items on his tray with gusto, grinning at Jane and flashing his gorgeous peepers her way. I looked over and shook my head. “If you can convince that one to eat some of those green beans,” I told her, “I’ll be begging you to move here and be my partner.”

Jane steered Little Man’s hand toward the small pile of beans and much to my surprise, he pushed his fork onto the mound and pulled one up. On a normal day, the sight of anything green on his tray instantly transforms him from a cherub to a wild, howling beast, his face ruddy with indignation, but there he was, with a green bean headed right toward his mouth, and he was unfazed.

Then it touched his tongue.

Little Man screamed and grabbed the bean from his mouth. He threw it down and then threw himself back, thrashing and wailing as Jane reached for him and tried to calm him. “It’s okay, buddy,” she said, leaning forward to right the tray that he’d toppled in his fit of green-bean-induced anger. My guess is that Little Man thought Jane was reaching for another green bean, but it all happened so quickly that I can’t be sure. The only thing that was clear was that a tine of a Mickey Mouse toddler fork cut a path down Jane’s left cheek, and the wound was bleeding rather badly.

Jane pressed a towel onto her face, but the bleeding continued. This was beyond what the items in my first aid kit could handle, so I called my hubby and asked if he could run her up to the ER. He did, and by the time they returned a few hours later, Little Man had gone home for the day and Jane had 27 stitches on the side of her face.

I felt awful. She smiled. And a few hours and a few drinks after that, she dragged me up on a stage to sing karaoke with her. I’d objected to going at first, but she reminded me of our deal and then pointed up and down her left cheek as a reminder of what she’d been through. How could I say no?

A few days later, Jane was back at home, being tended by her flock of admirers, and I was at my computer, catching up on blogs. I clicked to see what the wisest of the wise had to say about her weekend and read some preposterous story about konking out on a wineglass. What? There were a bunch of sippee cups in the general vicinity of her cheek (and one wicked Mickey utensil), but a wineglass? Um, no. I guess I can’t blame her for recreating the event, though. Really, would you want to tell the world that you’d been taken down by a twenty pound cherub faced child who looked as though he was made from spun sugar, feathers, and pixie dust? Nah, I wouldn’t either.


*** The above photographic evidence image is the only supporting documentation I can provide. There are no drunken-karaoke videos. Right, Jane? ***


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Written for this week’s GBE topic, “Write Jane's Tale.” If you’d like to blog with us, just week’s clickety-click. All are welcome!

Details of this week's assignment can be found right here.

Oh, and FACEinHOLE is a cool site where you can upload your own pics into preset scenes, putting you in all sorts of places you've never been, doing all sorts of things you've never done. Say, singing karaoke with a really cool friend. ;O)

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