Rough and Tumble

Boys romp nonstop. And the romping (and potential for danger) increases exponentially the more boys are added to the equation. It's true. Those of you with girls will never understand. I know. Because I didn't believe it myself until I started living it.

Despite the difference in their ages - one is 38 months and the other 21 months - my boys can usually hold their own against each other during their romps. Granted, on the wrestling mat, Owen weighs only 4.5 lbs less but has his tackling techniques perfected (often choosing to sit on your head). And on an obstacle course, Collin can still outrun, outclimb, and outmaneuver his jack-rabbit brother. But, like I said, against each other, they can usually hold their own, and no harm is done.

I wouldn't place bets on the boys against inanimate objects, however. What inevitably (momentarily) halts a romp session are bruises, black eyes, bumps, and tears. And a great deal of mommy-guilt and dread.

Where should I draw the line between buckling them into a low chair with helmets on in a padded room and letting "boys be boys"?

Case in point, Collin jumps off everything: from his toy box to the floor, off the last three steps of the stairs, over lines in the sidewalk, etc. Naturally, one might assume jumping off the couch in the playroom would be slightly safer, considering the couch is cushioned, than jumping off the wooden toybox. Right? So far, toybox bruises: zero. Couch bruises: multiple. How can that be?

So, we make a rule: no more jumping off the play-couch. Clever Collin decides to remove all the cushions and line them on the floor, creating a bootcamp-style obstacle course. The course is made of cushions! How bad can it be? Until Owen goes tearing over the course, trips, and launches nose-bridge first into the couch frame. Couch black eyes: Make that two.

But it's not just that. They can be playing with blow-up soft beach balls and suddenly "roll" into the wall or a piece of furniture and end up with a big goose-egg bruise on their forehead (Owen). Or run from one room to another - nothing in their way - and come crying with a stubbed toe because that darned little rocking chair jumped out in front of them (Collin).

The moral of our story seems to be this: No matter how I try to limit the dangers, my boys will find them or create their own. My mommy-guilt will prevail, tears will fall, and in the end, I'll hopefully be left with tough little monkeys and lots of hug-time.