…ties that bind

Dear Diary,
The son passed his well-child check-up. We fly with colors past the psyche tests, sleeping alone, dry at night, eating healthy, plays well with others.
“Your best friend’s name is Rope?” The doctor frowns under his brows.
“Yes, he’s in Mommy’s purse and it’s really dark in there! But, if we’re nice at the doctors, then he gets out and we get ice cream!” A trifle tetched too, Me

One morning, I walked unsuspecting across the kitchen and tripped on a string strung across the space creating a web from cabinet to cupboard. The fridge door flew open, hit me in the back, and I fell forward to meet face-first, the cupboard door careening toward me. Behind me, the youngest son doubled over giggling uncontrollably.

I asked for it, I trained him by implementing Mom’s old stand-by for keeping the toddler out of the cupboards. I tied the cupboards closed to keep the toxic stuff in and the lethal child out. I use shoelaces rather than those new-fangled plastic thing-a-ma-bobs that require a degree in engineering to install, and the only one they keep out is me. It seems simpler to tie the doors shut and in a pinch, the children can untie them for me.

The stairs now have cobwebs strung across the expanse from banister to banister—a snare. He insists that it is not intended to be a tripping trap and even offers to demonstrate as he attempts to swing over the top rail and rappel twenty feet down the wall.

But I know! I know that it’s subconscious payback for the shoelace and the cupboard trick! Children tend to remember these things and when they get older, they attribute unnatural significance to the power of string.

Reality Bite: What other tortures did I unknowingly inflict that will be revisited upon me in my old age?