Parents Vs Ninjas

The Nightly Mortal Combat

Ninjas are the epitome of coolness, masters of stealth, martial arts, and assassinations. Wrong! The true operative word for ninjas is that they are annoying. Annoying, and not quite as masterful as they think they are.

The first time I met a ninja was after a long day's work. It was exciting and everything, but not nearly as intense as what I was doing just an hour earlier.

Back then, I was locked in an epic three-on-one battle and winning, if somewhat slowly. Of course, my opponents were all under the age of 4, but don't let that fool you. My son David, age 3, can squirm and kick with the best of them, and Hazel's headbutts are the stuff of legend. She's almost two, and when she gets in a mood "terrible" doesn't begin to cover it. Baby Beth mostly wiggles, but be warned: her cries could scare off a rampaging grizzly bear.

It was a wet warzone scary enough to make a navy seal head for the nearest desert. It was full of kicking, screaming, weeping, and wailing. It was bath time. More specifically, it was that tricky transition period between the end of bath time and arriving at the bedroom in clean dry nightclothes. My husband Peter was working late, so I was on my own, outnumbered but not outgunned.

Hazel had come out with minimal fuss, but David flatly refused to leave the bath. Instead he was kicking and splashing and screaming his little head off. Dodging waves of water I grabbed him under his shoulder and employed "Swing the Happy Baby" to lift him out of the bath, only to see Hazel heading towards Beth in the bouncer, about to headbutt Beth with her overly exuberant sibling affection. Peter and I like to joke that parenting is its own form of ninjutsu, only harder because we have to make sure the moves don't hurt our kids.

Two quick steps and a "Steer The Toddler Away" prevented this coma-inducing meeting of the minds, only for David to kick me. I held on grimly, took some deep breaths in a bid for inner peace, and put him down gently just as Hazel angrily headbutted my knee, sending pain racing through my body. The impact nudged the bouncer and set Beth off crying, a sonic weapon if ever there was one. And David was getting up, preparing to take a running leap back into the tub. Hopefully I could achieve peace both internal and external.

I spun doing a double "Time for a Diaper Change" takedown that placed David and Havel next to each other and on the ground where I could finally dry off David with a towel and put his diaper on. Beth assaulted me from behind with her cries the whole time, but they don't call mommas tough as nails for nothing. And boy would I need that toughness over the next 24 hours.

While I focused on David, Hazel wiggled away for another pass at Beth, a fuzzy-haired homing missile. I snagged her in a "Let's Fly" that looped her back around to the counter where her nightclothes were.

David, now sporting a clean diaper, was back on his feet and intent on ruining my efforts to keep him dry. Leaving Hazel on the counter next to her nightclothes, I used "Momentum Redirection" to swing David over next to the bouncer, letting me pick up Beth and start patting her back while Hazel chewed on a tube of toothpaste and waved Daddy's razor like a sword. I hoped that toothpaste was hers.

I employed a one-handed "Give Me the Sharp Object Before You Hurt Yourself" to disarm Hazel, moving the razor to a drawer on the far side of the sink before placing my leg as a "Small Kid Barrier" to block a charging David and finally pulling the bathtub plug.

David threw himself on his back, pounding the tile with his fists and feet. My parenting sixth sense informed me this wasn't working. Time to try a new strategy.

Hazel was still chewing on the toothpaste but otherwise seemed fine, so I knelt by David, still holding Beth.

"David, I love you."

He shrieked and pounded the floor even harder. The floor shook with his rage. I need him to feel safe enough to cry and work through his feelings, I thought. He needed it, and I needed it. We'd all be missing this feeling of safety soon.