I gave birth to Evil Kneivel

I'm not shitting you. I wouldn't do that. Mostly because I don't think it's physically possible and because it's really a pretty gross idea overall. Anyway.

I've determined that Alex has suddenly discovered the spirit of the deceased Evil Kneivel dwelling deep within his 29 pound little frame. We go to the park, we go to the zoo. We walk around the mall, we go to his MMO (Mom's Morning Out for you laymen). We walk around the block, we play in the backyard. We go to the grocery store - and if you have two small children under three I highly recommend taking both of them to the grocery store at one time, especially if you are in dire need of a migraine that would drop an elephant. To eliminate more redundancy, we do a lot of stuff.

A lot. I'm not kidding.

My ultimate goal is to keep my kids busy as much as possible so that when I have to be home alone with them they sleep like bears hibernating in the winter.

And over the course of these travels I have discovered that my eldest (which is just a funny thing to say since the boy is 2 - really in the scheme of things can that be considered "eld"?) is not only confident, he is actually missing the part of the brain that says:

"Don't do that, you could die.

Painfully.

I'm not kidding."



Instead his lanky, fast moving yet still clumsy little frame travels at twice the speed of light towards the most dangerous objects within a 10 mile radius. And if there aren't any that close, he'll go 20. He jumps off playground equipment at outrageous heights, deliberately searches out sharp objects, tries to eat unedible - potentially toxic substances, and just generally pushes his luck in all directions.

I've tried reasoning, cajoling, threatening, even pleading. Nothing seems to work. Instead I get this:



So save up your prayers, I'm gonna need them when this boy breaks his fool neck.