"Die, die, die. . ."

So sometimes moms make mistakes. Sometimes they do things they later regret (like showing children how to stand on chairs simply by changing a light-bulb). Sometimes the pressure gets to be too much and they say something they shouldn't. Sometimes they get lucky and the child doesn't notice, file away the information and repeat, repeat, repeat the heck out of it. But sometimes they do.

Last week - Michael out of town, me with the children for 3 days by myself - and William with all the energy of a border collie puppy. Elizabeth screaming in her car-seat as if she is in imminent peril, and me trying to run out the door with both kids to beat some strange time crunch I shouldn't have had.

Christmas tree up. Lights off. William loves the lights on. Thinks that it might stop Sissy crying if he plugs them in. I look over and William is about 2 centimeters away from plugging in the Christmas tree lights. I don't know if he was holding the metal or not. I don't need to know. I know he is in danger. I yell "William Knotts - NO!" in the most authoritative, scary, danger-stranger voice I have. This stops William. He looks surprised, but not upset. Then I burst into tears. Not because I'm mad, but because I was SO scared for him.

This makes him LOSE it. Tears, chin quivering (Elizabeth still screaming in background), shaking, sobbing. So I explain how Mommy wasn't mad, she needed him to stop because electricity is HOT and there are so many lights on the tree that it would really, really hurt him to do what he was going to do. In fact, he could even die, and that's why Mommy is crying.

So now, fast forward a week. William, with all the logic of an almost two year old, keeps pointing out the lights on the tree to me and saying "Die, die, die. . ."

As I said, sometimes moms make mistakes. Mea culpa.