Trouble on my mind

It's been like an episode of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom here today. Mama is down and out with no voice and the lung capacity of a gnat leaving Little Bird to prey upon her. Take out the sick and weak.

At the midwife today, we were down in one of the birthing rooms because it was busy upstairs. Bird kept running to the tub and turning on the water. I gave him the first try of, "Hands off," as I turned the water off. We made it to, "No sir," and an even more firm, "Mama said NO. Do you understand? Look at me, please. Hands off, sir."

He giggled and touched my mouth. My mouth that wasn't working right. Raspy and only half the words actually forming soundwaves. He giggled, touched my mouth, and then turned the water on again.

Prey on the weak.

He was like that all day. There is still one word that will stop him, thank goodness.

Trouble.

Turns out Little Bird hates to be "in trouble." When he knows he's in trouble, he will run to the nearest softie (in order: his sister, me, Daddy) and hangs his head while saying softly, "Trwouble."

It's ridiculously cute and sad and endearing and dang it, it just melts me.

I don't even know where he learned the word in that way. Usually I use "time out" for the warning. "Do you want to be in time out?" And he shapes up for a few seconds.

But now, "Do you want to be in trouble?" seems to hit home.

Trwouble. Hangs head and shakes it. Looks up with those big baby blues. It's hard to stay tough against that. I'm afraid I'm in the running for the biggest softie in the house, and with his big sister only here half the time, I need to stay tough.

And give hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. Because nobody likes to be in trwouble.