KosherCop has had a tough time of it lately.
First there was the pool incident during Shavuot. Some friends of ours hosted a wonderful afternoon dessert and pool party. KosherCop was VERY excited about the pool. He took some beginning swimming lessons almost 2 years ago and has been "practicing" in the bathtub ever since. Apparently his stupid parents forgot to let him know he doesn't actually know how to swim yet.
KosherCook got him changed first and headed out to the pool. I came out a few minutes later to see our host holding our son in the water - our son who has that look of someone who has recently been fished out of the water. Which he was. Apparently he ran ahead of his Dad and despite being told to go sit on the steps in the shallow end, walked confidently up to the edge of the pool - somewhere around 5 or 6 ft. deep - and jumped in. He was so confident that it took several moments for anyone to realize he was in trouble. He spent the rest of the party occasionally announcing, "I drowned!" Thank G-d he didn't - KosherCook would have been in soooo much trouble...
Then today KosherCop seemed to be hellbent on systematically destroying his toes. Every time I turned around one was bleeding. But the weird thing was the unbelievably disproportionate reaction he had when he stubbed his big toe. We were sitting enjoying the last few minutes of his Dad's special day out, eating ice cream at a local shopping center. He stubbed his toe, and his idiot mother said, "Oh gosh, your toe is bleeding."
He became completely unhinged. His toes are sensitive to begin with, but he was fine until I told him he was bleeding. He was screaming "Ow! Ow! Ow!" so loud you would have thought he had broken a bone. As I tried to calm him down I looked over his head and could see people at the other end of the strip mall staring at us. He just kept begging for a band-aid which I didn't have, and saying "I can't stop crying! You have to help me Mommy!"
We finally got him home, bandaged (his toe had stopped bleeding 15 seconds after it started and I spent 30 minutes pointing this out) and arranged on the couch with a calming popsicle. As I was unwrapping the ice pop he started channeling some Bubbe from Brooklyn (not mine - she never would have said this): "Thank you, Mommy. Thank you. Oy For G-d's Sake Thank you."