The Boy slipped in the shower last night.  I'd like to be able to blame it on his consumption of one to many Guinesses at the Fish N Chip restaurant yesterday but I imagine it was just a slippery tub. 

Which my husband promptly blamed on me.  OK, so maybe I was a little hesitant about putting down those daisies that my grandmother used to have in her tub.  If you think we have to clean the tub NOW...

But the kid had a shiner on his eyebrow.  OK, it was more like he had a marble under his skin.  I ran downstairs and did what every other self-respecting mother does.  I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and carrots from the freezer.  If you know me you know that it's not like we are going to eat peas anytime soon.  In fact, I don't even remember purchasing the peas and carrots.  Maybe it was back when The Boy was getting his first teeth.  About a year and a half ago.  Anyway, I wrapped a wet towel around the bag and ran upstairs to begin the fight to keep the ice on for at least 7 seconds. 

In fact, we had a game that we counted to five on our fingers while I held the compress to his head.  Then Dad took an alternating turn.  I was kind to Dad and put the compress on the "side of his head" where it could not be seen.  My son is not stupid and tried several times to correct me in my positioning on his father's head. 

D:  I think he's trying to tell you that you have it in the wrong place.
K:  Well, Rocket Scientist, if I put it in the right place, you'll have frostbite and have to have an eyebrow amputed.  D:  Hum.......Well, I'm just saying that's what I think he is saying.

With that I slapped it on his eyebrow.  You try to Hook A Brotha' Up.  For what?  But I managed to ice The Boy's eyebrow for about 10 whole minutes.  Until he realized that the "ice" was peas and carrots.  With that he began to eat them out of the bag.

D:  Buddy, they are frozen.
K:  They're CANDY.  Go ahead and eat them.
D:  (rolling his eyes at me).  I can't believe this. 
K:  Shut up.  If I managed to get the boy to eat peas because he thinks they are candy, then you are totally going to have to kiss my ass for my ingenuity.  My brilliance.
D:  Whatever.

The kid ate 20 peas.  Yippee for me.  I mean, I think they taste like moldy bread, but whatever it takes to get the green in him.  Then they were off to bed and I was off to my computer to continue to obsess about childbirth. 

My husband found me downstairs 20 minutes later, sobbing at the computer screen, trying to tuck a Butterfinger wrapper behind a couch cushion.  Enveloped by "husband panic," he asked what was wrong.

K:  Well according to this website, if the baby is transverse past 32 weeks and you haven't done all of their exercises by now, than you are a shitty mother who clearly doesn't care about your baby or having natural childbirth.
D:  He's going to move.
K:  He is NOT going to move, just to spite me.
D:  I thought you said he can move up until labor and that the midwives will try to move him before then if they need to.
K:  This website says it's too late.
D:  (catching on that maybe he is being distracted on purpose) where did you get the Butterfinger?
K:  What do you mean?
D:  (grabbing the wrapper) THIS Butterfinger.  Do you have any idea what your sister would say if she knew about this?  No wonder you don't want to eat dinner.
K:  That was because I ate a bowl of ice cream when you took a walk around the block.  I had to eat it out of the container to be sure I wouldn't get caught.   You walk fast.
D:  Do you have more Butterfingers hiding someplace?
K:  No, I ate the other one on the way to the dealership to drop the car off.
D:  Did you buy a whole box of them?
K:  No, but that's a great idea.  I'll go to Costco tomorrow. 
D:  I can't BELIEVE THIS.
K:  I have been so good for so long.  It was just a bad day.
D:  If you don't think he's gonna turn now, imagine him trying to turn after you ate a box of Butterfingers.

Damn. Him.  Damn him, damn him, damn him.  Jen will be SO VERY PROUD OF HIM.