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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


You urt my ed!

Earlier today as I was reaching down to pick up Levi’s shoes in the mudroom he, unbeknown to me, wedge himself between my leg and the wall. When I straightened back up I squeezed his head between me and the wall like it was a in a vice.

Ow! You urt my ed, Mom, you urt my ed!
Sorry, sweetie let me kiss your head.
Don urt my ed gain, kay?
Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t urt your ed again.
Later, today, while loading the van with crapola from Walfart I reached to get Levi out of the cart. Instead of letting me pick him up, he tried to jump into my arms, but ended up ramming his hard head right under my chin. Of course I had my mouth open, because it usually is, and the force of his head made me bite my lip and take a chunk out of my cheek. I was distracted for a millisecond by the haze of blue and purple glitter that I was seeing. Then I reach up held my mouth and closed my eyes.
Oh, gah. Ow!
Sorry, sorry, Mom, sorry, sorry, I sorry.
I know, jussss, jusss, oh, ow, don jumph gain, kay? Don jumph!
Kay, kay, I not jump. Sorry, sorry I urt yur ead.
So, picking him up I walked to his side of the van and wouldn’t you know I whacked his head on the door!
Ow! You urt my ed!
Oh, gah! Sorry Levi.
Das okay, I’m okay. It dodn’t urt. It’s okay. See? I rub it, it’s okay.

I swear I did not ram his head on purpose, really. But, I am keeping my distance from him for the rest of the night, just in case he feels like head butting me to even the score.
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