So This is What You Do When It's 90 Degrees Outside...

Much like the days of frigid winter or stormy spring, a brutally hot summer day like today is reason enough for me and the kids I care for to STAY IN amidst the goodness that is a well-regulated temperature. Of course, if little 2-year-old Ethan could have his way, he'd be out and about in any kind of weather conditions. His fingers could be icy red, sweat could be pouring from his temples and he'd still be tearing around the playground. I, however, as the caregiver need to set the appropriate boundaries. (And thank God since I am no fan of extreme weather).

So on a day like today, it's as if it's a rainy/"what the hell are we gonna do for eight hours?" kind of day. We played "picnic" for an amazingly long time; I then got one of his little friends to come over for a while, and then later in the day, Ethan's own creativity went wild. Out of nowhere, he began galloping around the house, yelling "Yee-haw!" and waving his arms (lassoing?) in the air. (This is what I love about toddlers. Who the hell knows what sparked horses/cowboys/rodeos/etc. in his mind? But suddenly, there it is, full force).

After a good few rounds of hooting and hollering, Ethan suddenly announced that we were going to play "horsey". I honestly didn't even know what he meant at first but as he began to push me over from my sitting position (how are teeny kids so freakishly strong???), I quickly remembered.

Suddenly, there I was on all fours. As he scurried up my back, my shirt bunched up and I couldn't help but notice the deafening silence. I knew that he was looking at the tiny Chinese symbol tattooed on my lower back. (Side note: ON MY DEFENSE, I GOT MY "TRAMP STAMP" TEN YEARS AGO WHILE IN COLLEGE BEFORE EVERY DAMN GIRL IN A BELLY TOP HAD ONE!) I laughed and said, "Do I have an owie back there, Ethan? Can you get that off?" He rubbed it and said, very matter-of-factly, "It's stuck".

However, the tattoo didn't keep his attention for long. He was more bothered that the ties of my empire waist tank top had come undone, informing me that he was going to "fix Rachael". He scampered off and after a ton of racket from his bedroom that I prayed would not result in any violent screaming (it didn't), he appeared before me with his play tool-set. He then pushed me forward again (this time, not so much on all fours but in a quasi-child's pose that my yoga instructor would not approve of). It was not a very appropriate position for a nanny to be in, I thought, and I tried to sit up but Ethan kept pushing me down. Apparently, this was the "fix-it" position. I seriously hoped that his mother wouldn't walk in at this moment, so rudely greeted by my ass.

Ethan then took his hammer, wrench, screw driver, and level out, using each one to tap me on the back to "fix" my shirt. This started out very gently (probably because I screamed, "GENTLE!" before he even started) but then as he got more into it, he managed to whack me a few times right on the spine, jolting me back into a sitting position. "I sorry, Rachael, " he said in his ridiculously perky tone (clearly an imitation of all the adults in his life) and once again guided my face down to the floor. With my cheek pressed against the rug, he tapped a few more times, and then out of nowhere, popped his little face next to mine and he said, "Don't worry, Rachael. You're gonna get a lollipop" which almost caused me to pee myself, right then and there.

But seriously, how great would it be if every sad, painful, or frustrating moment was eased by a lollipop? How fantastic would it be if a painful memory, like a tetanus shot, could be washed away with a tiny cherry dome of sugar? Hmm...there could be a little experiment in my near future. So if out of nowhere, I whip out a Dum Dum and ask you how it makes you feel, just be honest, k?

Later, kids...must get close to an A/C unit again. Let's pray that this heat wave is on it's way out. My spine can't take much more.