Maggie has quite an elaborate game of pretend going on lately. It would be cute, if it didn't involve bringing every single one of her beloved dolls, toys, books, and blankets out of her room and shoving them all under the kitchen table, because, of course, all that crap doesn't actually fit under the kitchen table.
The game has something to do with a bad guy chasing her Barbies, and for some reason the dog has to be involved with saving or protecting them. I don't think I have to tell you, although I will, that the dog hates this game. And I hate it too, but not because of the mine field of toys or the high-strung dog. I hate this game because I have to consult the Internet for "how to know if your kid has a concussion" every time she plays it.
At least twice, every stinkin' single time she crawls under the table to play this game, she cracks her head. On the chairs, on the table leg, on the bottom of the table... she cracks her head and she comes crawling out of there crying her eyes out, "Maaahhhhmmm, I bonked my head!!! Baahhhh!!!" The girl does not have a very thick skin (although apparently she has a very think head). When I suggested she play this game under the dining room table where she would have more room she says, "Mom, I CAN'T! Remember, I bonked my head on that table?!" That she did, four months ago. Must have been pretty traumatic, but how would I ever know when every five minutes the kid bonks her head on something and freaks out.
The tables aren't the only hazard in our house. The wall, the floor, the back of the sofa, the bathroom sink, the coffee table, Cate's swing, the banister, the refrigerator, the pantry door, the kitchen cabinets, her bookshelf, her bed frame, my bed frame, the dog! Argh! I swear to god, does anyone know someone that could fill my entire house with packing peanuts?
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