Tuesday, May 10, 2005
You can't have a video camera trained on your kids all the time, and that's just a tragedy. Picture if you will Tyler and me at his Music Together class this morning. My theory, by the way, on pre- preschool classes is they can't help but make him somewhat less terrified than I was when preschool rears its big, wooly head. (In my case, there were killer sheep involved, don't ask.) He's tearing around, having a grand time shaking his maracas to the beat. The teacher bends at the waist to help another toddler with something. Tyler's running at her full tilt from behind, and doesn't anticipate her abrubpt halt–and–bend maneuver. With all the torque and momentum his 24-pound frame can muster (roughly the same as a pint-sized F430), he slams, nose first, into the teacher's derrière, then ricochets backward no fewer than four feet to land WHOOF on his own.
Rang his little bell good, and reduced everyone over the height of 2 1/2 feet to hoots of uncontrollable glee.
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