Benjamin "Danger" Ladd
The basic rules that apply to humans do not apply to Benjamin. Things like gravity, physics, awareness of pain and range of motion. Lately, our house sounds like this: “BENJAMIN, Shouldn’t you be afraid of SOMETHING!?!” - or - “BENJAMIN, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO DO THE MOST DANGEROUS THINNNGGGGGGGSSSSS!?!”
When he’s home, he prefers to have the full-sized broom or mop in hand wherever he goes (not the small one Chris made for him), assuring that he will get stuck in door frames, knock things over and potentially break himself and all of our possessions. He likes to be put on couches and beds so he can throw his body off of them, head first. He loves the feeling of falling and keeps at least one bruise on his forehead at all times. Currently, Benjamin is championing his ability to close his eyes, throw his head back far enough to knock off his balance, cackle like a wild man, and run at full speed. He is a magnet for the fireplace, the scissor drawer and grabbing for knives when Lifa tries to unload the dishwasher.
Chores, breakfast and Benjamin happen before school in the morning in our very small kitchen. (Chris has learned to stay outta there between 6:30-7:30am!) This morning Benjamin spread every lid we own across the kitchen floor, creating a slippery obstacle course for himself on the tile floor. Then he grabbed his mop and went after it, trying to use the lids as skis. (He also loves the feeling of sliding.)
Mornings in our very small kitchen sometimes can make you feel like you need to take a long nap by the time you’ve got breakfast cleaned up. But I LOVE the laughter and the conversations that happen there - even when it’s 7am, and I’ve cleaned the kitchen 14 times already.
This morning, Lifa rolled his eyes while Benjamin mop-skied around my legs. I said, “They call him “Danger”. Benjamin “Danger” Ladd.” Lifa didn’t miss a beat. He looked at me and said, “There’s no “they”, Mom. It’s a pandemic. There’s no people.”
This morning’s scene: Mop-skiing toddler in distress because Mom is cleaning up his lids AGAIN.
I laughed and laughed. He had a point. This story does not. I just wanted you to join us for a kitchen morning. I love that you’re reading this story, and I love when you comment so I know. We miss our people and all people. So sometimes it just feels good to share a kitchen story!