I have determined that the reason Jadon is acting like an absolute lunatic this week is because Jason is gone. Now, mind you, he has been gone before for business trips, but usually they don’t last this long, and I’m now fairly certain that Jadon does not approve. Not in the least.
See, Jadon is sort of a Daddy's boy, and when Daddy isn't here, Jadon isn't happy. And when Jadon isn't happy, ain't nobody happy.
Frankly, after these last few days, I don’t think I approve of Jason being out of town either. Last night’s behavior was, I am sure, a result of Daddy being gone for several days. Jadon was in rare form, and with no particular shortage of adrenalin to fuel his mischievousness. Yeah, me.
Here’s a quick recap of the evening. I put the little boys in bed, turned on the babysitter (All Dogs Go to Heaven in the DVD player). See, usually the babysitter will entertain the boys for a good half hour or so as they wind down and get ready to fall asleep. And yes, I do realize this is yet another glowing example of my mothering skills, but it’s either the movie or Mommy becomes an alcoholic. So I opt for the movie.
Ok, so last night is the night that the dumb, dumb, dumb little television that we have been limping along for weeks now decides to die. Die. Right at the beginning of the movie. Could there be anything worse? (Well, yes, there could be worse things…but at that particular moment, I was fairly sure the sky was falling.)
The broken television set did not exactly make the boys happy, and they decided that instead of watching a movie to wind down that they would turn their beds into trampolines. This, in my humble opinion, is not a good way for 3-year-olds to wind down. In fact, it probably served as foreshadowing of the harrowing evening that was to come.
I made about 8 trips up the stairs to talk to them and explain why Mommy really, really, really needed them to lay down and get some sleep. And do you know what they did? Jadon nodded solemnly, as if he were actually considering this ridiculous request. And Jordan laughed. Laughed! (True, I’m pretty sure he has trouble interpreting facial expressions and tones, so I’ll give the kid a break. Never mind the fact that my face was contorted into some gruesome mixture between snarling bear and Freddy Krueger in order to try to intimidate them into submission.)
So, after 8 trips up the stairs (forget the elliptical…this is WAY better), it finally got quiet. It was nice. It was peaceful. I was watching “Stars” stumble their way across the dance floor on TV. Ahhhh…silence. And then I realized it was too quiet. Impossibly quiet. Like the kind of quiet that makes you think, “3-year-olds are NEVER this quiet.” And it was sort of like one of those delayed reaction moments, when it takes this realization a split second of time to actually reach your brain.
But when it hit me, boy I was off and running for the stairs. Once again, I was visualizing our house going up in flames or any other number of domestic disasters. I took the stairs two at a time and realized that I should really carry my inhaler if I’m going to do such strenuous things, but alas, there was not time to worry about small matters like lung function. My boys were up to no good—I could feel it.
Sure enough, when I reached the top of the stairs, I caught a glimpse of Jadon darting back down the upstairs hallway toward his room. Oh, and it was a guilty dart, too—stealthy like a cat burglar. He knew he was going to be caught.
I did my most intimidating stomp down the hallway toward him and said, “Jadon, what are you doing?”
And he said, “Oppers Owt.”
Now, if you’ve read a few posts back, you’ll know that I learned the hard way what this toddler-speak translated to. Hoppers was out. He had let the rabbit out of the cage…again.
Quickly, I gave up my warrior-mom stomp and instead adopted a sort of panicked dash toward Marissa’s room in a futile attempt to catch the bunny. And do you think I was successful?
Nope. Not in the least. The bunny had long since left Marissa’s room and was now somewhere upstairs, but I wasn’t sure even where to start looking. As I did the mom-stomp back toward Jadon to get him back into bed before I began the search, I happened to see a hop and a little fluff of white tail dart under my bed. Location of rabbit triangulated.
So before I went back down the hall to threaten Jadon once more, I had the presence of mind to close my bedroom door, so that Hoppers would be confined to that one area. Then, knowing that it normally takes two people to corner and capture our fugitive animals, I called for Jacob to help me.
Nothing. No response. No footsteps. Back I went toward his room. I knocked lightly on the door. Still no response. So I opened the door to find him with earbuds jammed in his ears, bobbing his head to some sort of screeching beat and looking at the computer screen. I finally got his attention and told him I needed him to help me rabbit wrangle.
And what do you think the intelligent, 15-year-old kid grabs to aid us in our capturing of the bunny? A bath towel. Yep, a towel. I’m still not sure whether he planned to snap the towel at it to herd him into the cage or whether he planned to drop it over the rabbit’s head like a cartoon coyote trap. Either way, the towel wasn’t going to do the trick.
After several minutes of scouting and army crawling around my room, we managed to herd Hoppers into my walk-in closet. His world was now closing in around him. I felt akin to the Crocodile Hunter. I was slowly and cautiously approaching the wildlife.
Several scratches and rabbit grunts later, I had the feisty little guy in my hands, but he was not going to give up easily. I escaped with several scratches on my hands and arms. Jacob, however, was just fine, as he was protected by the bath towel he was carrying.
Last night was the culminating event that made me realize a couple of things. First of all, we need a lock for the rabbit cage. Secondly, Jason never, ever gets to go out of town again…well, at least until the boys are old enough to go off to summer camp or something.