With the little ones the term “show and tell” is an everyday occurrence. They tell and show us everything. The girls tend more on the telling side of the coin; while the boys are more likely to show, in all its bloody glory.
While I was sitting in the living room I found myself cornered by #5. He was waving hands, arms, and feet as he passionately retold me something I did not understand. At one point of the story he had my complete attention when he slammed his forehead into the couch with a great deal of force for such a little head.
I was taken aback. I looked at the little boy stupidly and said, “What?”
Without a seconds delay #5 plowed his face back into the couch. “Like dat!” he squealed.
I must have looked to him as if I did not understand, which I really didn’t, because he felt the need to show me again. Not getting the reaction he desired, he sauntered over the Wife, who was washing off the table.
Not waiting for her complete attention, he started his story again. I waited across the room to see what might happen. He babbled on without Wife noticing. She only saw him when she nearly walked into him. It was at that point when #5 got to the head-butting part of the tale. With a clunk he bonked his head against the leg of the table.
Wife stopped in her tracks thinking the child had an accident, but before she could comfort him he again knocked his head into the hardwood table. “Like dat! Seeee!” he gleefully shouted up to his mother while rubbing he forehead with one hand.
Wife dropped her washrag and doubled over with laughter. Whether #5 understood why she was laughing I don’t know, but he started to laugh too. Wife looked up to me after a second and asked, “Did you see that?”
I stood apart like a spectator and simply nodded my head. I added, “He slammed his head three times on the couch over here with me. When he walked to you I almost warned you, but I wanted to see how well he would make out against the table.”