I’ve talked about the youngest Scroggins Hooldum on various occasions–the one that shaves minutes off my life daily–the one who by two years of age had knocked out a tooth, broken an arm, and spent a few weeks in the hospital.  There have been many more since then, some of which I think I’ve blocked out because of the Momma Trauma watching his injury.

But, yesterday was one for the record books, and needs to be recorded and documented for future reference.  We were at the oldest hoodlum’s softball game–you would think an easy enough place to be.  We were there no less than twenty minutes when I turned and saw the youngest hoodlum creeping between the bleacher seats, trying to move from the top of the bleachers to under the bleachers.  In theory, I guess this usually works for him, only this time he managed to worm his entire body through before discovering his head would not fit through the space.  That’s where I discovered the problem.  I tried to pull him through the bottom, but his head really wouldn’t fit.  Another mom came to help me, and we tried to push him back through to the top, but we couldn’t find the right way to twist his body without breaking him.  I wasn’t panicking, one thing this kid has taught me is that almost any situation is manageable.  Finally, my husband was able to twist and turn him at the right angles to maneuver his way to the top of the bleachers.

Whew.

Of course, he was totally oblivious to the fact that this was NOT situation normal–I guess because it is situation normal for him.

Have I mentioned he’s only six years old?  We’ve got so far to go.