The other day, Rafa was practicing handstands like any 2.5 year old who can't really do handstands. He walked his little feet up the wall, but of course his little arms couldn't hold his body up, so his head came crashing to the floor. I know this because I was standing right there. Now, before you think I'm a terrible mom, I did go get him an ice pack with cars on it for his head.
Then, yesterday, while putting away the frozen peas (which SylRafa currently enjoy, much to my delight), I brought my elbow down on the ice chute of the freezer door. Much silent pain dancing ensued as my children looked on with sweet concern. Side note: they had both been whining and crying so I did learn a new technique to get them to quit their crying.
They learned that when we bump ourselves and it hurts, ice can feel good. I had left the ice pack out for them to touch and look at and returned to whatever it was I was doing. The next time I turned around, I saw my sweet boy sitting cross legged on the floor. He had the ice pack in front of him on the floor. Over and over again, he would slap his open palmed hand onto the floor and then placing it on the ice pack. It seemed like he couldn't quite get himself to hit the floor hard enough to be satisfied that the ice did anything and had to keep trying. But that's probably a good thing.
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