It's not Canaan's evening

I was so proud of Canaan today! Despite my willingness to subject him to :::gasp::: the nursery at VBS today, he's been a well-adjusted boy. He did not last in the nursery, mind you. They walked him around the church campus and he was fine, but any approaching the actual nursery room was not going to happen, so he ended up with me in the music center, which was fine. I like dancing with my boy. Also he said "dirt" for the first time at church, and over and over at that. Some men were digging up a big hole and he pointed at it and said, "dirt" several times. I hope it doesn't replace his usual reaction to dirt too quickly, though, because it's pretty cute when he goes, "pbbbt" any time something's dirty or yucky.

So about this evening. He was in the kitchen with me while I made dinner. My kids hang out with me in the kitchen a lot and no one's ever gotten hurt. Canaan pulled a chair over to where I was standing at the stove, and in my worst-mom-of-the-year oblivion, I didn't even pay any heed. He pulls chairs around the house all the time and so I guess it just didn't compute in my worn-out mind that he was pulling his chair up to the stove, which was on. And to further your sullied view of me as a mother, he actually said, "hot" plain and clear. Just before he stuck his hand right into the fire. Oh, I know, it is sickeningly sad. I am not being sarcastic. I could have cried. I put his hand into running cold water immediately and oh, he cried. Thank God I still nurse him. He nursed and was fine. Geez, when I get burned like that it hurts for hours! I gave him some Advil right after, just in case it was still hurting, and he acted like I was torturing him by giving him medicine.

At that point Alif returned from taking Graham to baseball practice, and so he took Canaan outside to distract him from my horribleness. Next thing I know, the crazy dog knocked down the baby, and the baby cried.

Pretty soon Alif & Canaan came inside, and Canaan got happy playing the piano. Until he slammed down the key-cover (I have no idea what it's actually called, sorry) right onto his pudgy little fingers. More crying. More nursing.

Let's hope tomorrow is better!!