While You Were (Supposed to Be) Sleeping

I came home from a late night grocery run to discover Ezra, rather than sleeping, had been doing a little work in TuxPaint. Computer on mute so as not to be discovered by Corey. Apparently he had also been shopping for a new iPod, browsing Photo Booth pics, and adjusting the settings on my laptop.

*GASP!* There's Blood EVERYWHERE!

So today things were going fairly well. Then Ezra decided to use our apple peeler/corer/slicer to prepare himself a snack. Not to be outdone, little e. raced to get in on the action.

(DISCLAIMER: this story gets disgusting. If you are squeamish, you should stop reading now.)

Minor altercation in the kitchen.

Boys were separated and returned to a (relatively) safe position.

Ezra's world ends. Not only have I taken his hope of a snack, but I have also kept him from beating his brother in what otherwise would have been a fair fight.

Flailing ensues.

Flailing continues.

Flailing and mourning make a tour of the living room/dining room/bedroom.

The disturbed elder child ends his raging after taking a flying leap into his brother's bed. When I feel he has calmed down enough to hear what's going to happen next, I approach. (Side note: I do not condone the throwing of fits. It prompts in me such distaste that I have found it best lately to remain calm and not engage in emotional warfare with my 2-year-old.)

I stop. Blood. Everywhere. Something incoherent about boogers.

I figure he has a bloody nose, but how? It's all over his face, hands, and neck. It's almost as disgusting as the time a couple of months back that the little guy drew on the walls... I'll stop. Suffice it to say that they have now each had a "Carrie" moment.

So the elder is not injured. He's still mumbling about boogers and his apple slicer as I race off to find the younger who must surely have collapsed by now.

Little guy is clean. Back to Ezra. I managed to find the tiniest cut on the tip of his small finger. Apparently he had cut it on the slicer, but the cut was so minor he either didn't realize or didn't care. I calm down and take a look around and that's when I notice...

THERE. IS. BLOOD. EVERYWHERE.

Everything he rolled around on and stomped across. Books. Carpet, (yay, washable FLOR tiles!) pillows, rugs, couch cushions, blankets...I could go on, but I'm sure that's more than enough for you. Call it a late Halloween story. ...or Reformation Day story, whichever you prefer because believe me, there will be a reformation in the life of my elder child. (How 'bout them apples, big E.?) I sincerely hope we are nearing the end of our "fireside chats" on the topic of tantrums.