Capes & Belly Flops & Squirrels (oh my!)

{This isn't the "secret" post yet. It will take more thought for me to write, and I don't have time right now.}

My in-laws were visiting this weekend and gave Grant and Cannon the coolest red, silk super-hero capes. I think the tag said "Chicken" something as the brand- I don't remember, but the point is, these are bad.ass.capes. These are not those itty bitty Velcro kind that came on the back of superman pajamas when I was little that all the boys had and I secretly wanted because I was a raging tomboy.

These capes are COOL.

Grant was running around in his cape last night like the cutest little super hero I've ever seen, and proceeds to stand on the coffee table.

Let me back up a little. There is a teensy debate in our house about the "legalities" of coffee table standing. I don't care too much, but Josh has ruled against it, so I sort of have to follow suit. Which is fine. I'm not adamant about letting them stand on the coffee table for a well-balanced childhood or anything. I could just care less either way.

So, I'm sitting on the floor, Grant stands on the coffee table quick and asks me to catch him. Daddy's doing the dishes and not paying attention, so I whisper "Okay. Real quick!" {A response sure to make me fun Mom for the night, I think.}

He sails through the air like a true Super Man and I catch him high over my head and hold him there for point two seconds before toppling over and turning it into a tackle. He's giggling madly and we laugh and he jumps right back up on the table for more.

Cannon sees that rules are being broken and immediately climbs up declaring "my turn!"

I nip it in the butt. {"butt?" or "bud?" I don't know that expression apparently}

"No more guys. We can't stand on the table."

Cannon obediently slides off the table. I become distracted {picking my nose I'm sure} when all of a sudden I catch a glimpse of a fucking red flying squirrel sailing through the air. I have no time to think before my 40+ pound son belly flops on.top.of.my.head, sending me into a crumpled crying heap on the floor.

My face grimaces, I really want to bawl like a baby, my neck is all kinds of jacked up. I'm pretty sure all of my vertebrae have just been cracked and I have flashing visions of a life wheel chair bound. I push Captain effing Hero off of me, grab my neck and hobble to the other room so I can curl up on the floor and cry like a big girl. {clearly a symptom of paralysis...}

Then, my husband with whom I had been overly cranky with and a little too bicker-y to, who I'm certain did not see what exactly happened, says "You can't jump on Mommy like you can jump on Daddy, boys. She can't play rough like that."

So many 'what the hell' factors here. I can't even go on. From the passive aggressive jagged blows my husband throws when he's pissy (a direct result of me being pissy, I admit) to the over zealous boy hero who carelessly almost paralyzed me....



Just a tidbit for you. If you know a chiropractor, please send one stat. My neck and back are seriously jacked up right now... *ouch*