In Which Lincoln and Inanimate Objects Assault Me

  Monday was a teething day. Which means it was a not-so-fantastic-and-I-kind-of-want-to-stab-something-like-styrophoam day.

  Lincoln would hop and pull at my legs while I was standing, moaning and crying like I just kicked him in the face (which I didn't, just so we're clear). So I would pick him up. Which he would respond to by bending over backwards and wailing the cry of the banshees like my touch was poison. So I would try to snuggle him. Which, naturally, caused Lincoln to thrash around and kick at me because, obviously, I WAS SMOTHERING HIM. So I would put him down. And the whole cycle would start over again.

  At the end of the day, we had a miraculous break-through: if I LAID ON THE FLOOR, it was all good. I could not SIT, which would result in more whining and crying, but I could LAY, as that  appeased His Teethingness, for reasons my tiny mind could not begin to fathom. So lay I did.

  Lincoln climbed around me like I was the best freaking jungle gym he'd ever laid eyes on. I was cool with it, and thought, "Hey, I can do this! I can lay on the ground for two hours until bedtime! I can make it through the day without stabbing a pumpkin!".

  Then Lincoln headbutted me in the nose.

  Let me just say, I HATE anything to do with my nose. I think it's sensitive about being all bulbous and weirdly flat, so anytime anything touches it, it's all, "AHHHHH, they're trying to kill me for being ridiculously shaped!" and does its painful nose cry. So, yeah, being headbutted in the nose is extremely painful, and for some reason I got weirdly excited thinking I was going to get a nosebleed. For the record, I have had one nosebleed in my entire life, and it was after I dived (dove?) into a pool as a child and I hit my brother Andrew with my nose.

  Anyhoo, while I was still reeling from nose-pain, Lincoln struck again. This time he headbutted my teeth.

  You might remember towards the end of my pregnancy when I fell out of bed and hit my teeth on my laptop. I kept screaming to McKay something along the lines of, "DID MY TEETH FALL OUT?! ARE THEY STILL THERE?".

  Teeth are gross.

  Reeling with double pain and laying in a daze, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Lincoln had moved on with his rampage and was now yanking at the stroller, which was folded up in the corner. As that stroller has already fallen on him once before, I pulled myself together to rush into my primary role as Ruiner of Fun. No sooner had I stood up then a miniature Christmas tree fell on my head.

  I am not joking.

  Any of you guys have a day like that recently? Where if it's not teeth-butting, it's miniature Christmas trees flying out of nowhere to assault you?