Any parent can tell you, a house with children can be...no, IS noisy. The amount of noise is directly proportional to the number of children in said house. Ours can generally be measured not in decibels but by the Richter scale. "Get off me!" "Give me that back!" "You are a baby!" "MOM!" Oh, you thought we are saints and our kids angels?
After constant exposure to a stimuli, you're likely to become immune to it. So, there comes a point when a parent fails to notice the screaming. Don't worry. This is relegated to our home. In public, we are very conscientious of creating any commotions. Anytime we go to a restaurant, shop, store, etc. we get stared at like we're on a reality show...and that's in America. Imagine a large, white family walking through the mall in Anytown, Middle East. We can do without any additional attention. In our apartment though, we sometimes ignore the hullabaloo.
Last night, D and I were sitting in the living room, I was working on work emails, she was reading on her Kindle. From the other room we heard a scream. No, it was more like a SCREAM! Instantly we dropped what were doing and ran into the kids' bedroom. Pandemonium ensued.
A. and M. were preparing to watch a DVD on a portable player, which requires a electrical converter. While plugging in the player, A. put his hand on an exposed wired and 220 volts of electricity surged through his 50 pound body. THANK GOD, the shock caused A. to fall backward, pulling the wire, which was firmly gripped in his seven-year-old hand, out of the wall socket. Again, THANK GOD! Other than a few blisters on his hand and sore muscles (from contracting) and a new found respect for electricity, there are no residual affects of this little experience. Except for dad. I can't get the sound of that very different scream out of my head.
No comments:
Post a Comment