Unbouncing

There is a Winnie the Pooh story where Rabbit tires of Tigger's incessant bouncing and is determined to unbounce him.  After much hullabaloo, Tigger agrees to never bounce again.  But when it comes right down to it, all the hundred acre woods residents decide Tigger just isn't Tigger without his bounce.

The other morning, Ben was being his exuberant self.  Picking Lotta up, setting Lotta down.  Poking Lotta.  Talking LOUDLY to Lotta.  Grabbing Lotta.  I found myself saying repeatedly, "That's TOO much Ben."  What exactly does that even MEAN?

Suddenly Ben lifted Lotta up and promptly fell kerplatt on his back, with Lotta falling on top of him.  I stopped myself from proclaiming, "I told you not to pick her up, I knew this was going to happen..."  or any other such nagging type of statement that might come flying out of my mouth.  A messy bloody nose ensued and a loudly crying baby.  As I cleaned up everyone and nursed Lotta, Ben climbed into the bathtub to get all the blood off (it was that big of a bloody nose.)  As he lay in the bathtub, he was so subdued, it was as if, momentarily he lost his bounce.

Don't worry he got his bounce back.

Remember a few months ago when I felt Eyeore-ish and it seemed as if  a raincloud were following me around?  Another day soon after, I was in Blockbuster when a sudden cloudburst occurred.  Possibly even hail.  I had ridden my bike, so was preparing myself for a soggy ride home.  As I left the building, the weather cleared.  I felt "un-eyeore-ish" and I smiled, thinking of how that definitely would have been an Ellie approved word.