|Benjamin, drawing the Winged Fargle from Josh Schneider's Bedtime Monsters|
"No; let's do memorized scriptures," I said. "I don't even know where we are."
Benjamin looked at me solemnly and said, "Mom, we're in North Carolina."
Though completely irrelevant (we're in Alma somewhere) his statement is 100% accurate.
Tonight Andrew was saying late on campus to listen to a speaker (Orhan Pamuk) so once again I faced bedtime alone. And once again I had a headache. If only I could record Benjamin all day long; then I could give you a headache, too! I'm constantly reminding him about "inside voices" and begging him to quit screaming. He's not usually upset about things, but he's always passionate.
Although I'd decided to wait for Daddy to get home before we had scriptures and prayer, I sent the kids to their beds for reading time before he got home. Zoë was trying to nurse and they were running around the house playing a wild and raucous game of hide-and-seek, which made nursing frustrating for both Zoë and me. So I earned a few minutes of peace and quiet that way, but we had to let the crazies out again for scriptures and prayer once Andrew got home.
Benjamin was berserk—completely bouncing off the walls—and nothing was going to centre that child. Nothing.
His sisters were, naturally, egging him on, but we finally got them reigned in.
"Okay, Benjamin," Andrew said to Benjamin, who was jumping on the couch. "Say a scripture."
Apparently we can't get the scriptures off the shelf for multiple nights in a row sometimes. Meh.
"Mandments!" Benjamin shouted, while bouncing, obviously. On this last word, however, he did a seat drop (code for he landed on his bum), sproinged off the couch and launched into the air, limbs sprawling everywhere. He landed on his stomach (on the couch) and then rebounded, head over heels. This time his poor little face crunched into the floor and the rest of his body quickly followed, flipping him onto his back, flat on the floor. He lay there for a minute, a little dazed, wondering whether or not he should cry.
Eventually he jumped up and declared, "I just did a backflip!" and then ran around to give everyone a hug (I think he still needed comfort, despite being totally elated about his backflip skills).
We all started laughing so hard we were crying and hiccuping and burping and gasping for air.
It wasn't pretty, but at least we waited until we verified he hadn't broken his neck, and between stifled fits of laughter we managed to finish our scripture and prayer routine.