misery

One day David and I took Andy in the pool while the rest of the family was out. David had just bought one of those nifty spiral footballs with the foam tail attached and we threw it around in the pool. Sometimes Andy got a hold of it and when he did he bit a chunk of foam out of this thing. It made me really angry and after scolding him a few times I was forced to put him in time out. The poor football lost its nose, but time out didn't seem to affect Andy very much.

Half an hour later we returned to the condo and were drying off on the porch. David went inside the house to find Andy standing there in his diaper with the football in his teeth taking a giant chunk of foam out of it.

Well, David hasn't spent a lot of time around toddlers, nor much time around Andy. He doesn't truly understand the delicate nature of Andy's feelings. He yelled, "Andy! No! Don't eat that football!!!!"

Andy dropped the football in shock and terror. I came in to find him standing there and could visibly see his little heart breaking. His Uncle Davey had yelled at him. I told him to apologize and he did. Then he collapsed into my arms sobbing like he's never sobbed before. He quivered and said, "Mommy I'm ready to go. I'm ready to go. I'm ready to go. I'm ready to go."

He said it at least fifty times, wracked with sorrow. It took him twenty minutes to calm down.

Andy quickly forgave his beloved Uncle Davey and I thought he'd forgotten all about it until that evening when we were back in the pool. Pop heard the story and asked Andy, "Did Davey get angry with you?"

Andy summed it up when he said, "I bit the football. Davey freaked out."