Posted by: erinmelissa | January 19, 2009

Lucky Day…

I am FULL of posts today.  I was looking at another blog, and a picture of a little boy looked like Tim as a little boy.  And man – I feel ripped off that I didn’t get to see him when he was little.  The stories I hear about his antics…you will hear now. 

Lightning fast feet

New shoes were judged by how fast they made him.  He would put them on in the car on the way home from the shoe store, then take off running in the field by their house, asking for status reports at every turn.  “Was that faster than with my old shoes?”  “What about now?”  “Now?”  The more stripes on the shoe, the faster they went.  Can’t argue with that logic.

Sunday school was kiddie jail. 

Evidently, my husband was “that kid.”   You know the one, you welcome him into the nursery/toddler room/Sunday school class/VBS, wave to the parents, and turn around to find he’s gone.  The Great Escape, church style.  His logic was, if he could reach his parents Sunday school class before the teacher could reach him, he was at “base”, and therefore could avoid the agony of said nursery/toddler room/Sunday school class/VBS.  I guess they used to bodily block the door for the whole hour cause he didn’t give up his escape plan easily.  Obviously, the stripey-est shoes helped with this, as speed was essential.

Punishment vs. Treat. 

Tim is not an ultimatum kind of guy, even to this day.  But, when faced with the option, “take the cookie and you get grounded,” or leave the cookie alone and keep freedom, he’d always opt for the cookie.  Immediate gratification is always better than the worst punishment in his mind.

Those girls are tough.

Tim is a quick study.  When he was 4, he’d watched his sister and her friends hang upside down on a bar by their knees, and realized this is something he could get into.  Unfortunately, he forgot to watch for the dismount.  So, hanging upside down from a bar by himself, he found himself in a pickle.  How do they get down?  He quickly evaluated the situation and found the solution.  They simply let go with their knees, and dropped. He thought, “Man, those girls are tough!”  So, he looked at the ground beneath him and saw a steel plate directly under his head.  “Here goes nothing”…plop.  Dropped straight onto the metal plate, forehead first.  (I’m starting to understand why he has more scars than anyone I know.)  When he told me this, I stared at him in shock and asked, “Did you cry?”  He replied, “There was no one there to see.  Of course I didn’t cry.” 

I guess I have a glimpse of what our kids will be like…

tim-running

Testing out those shoes.

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