Money

I’ve been putting in some awesome hours at work this past week, so I haven’t had a lot of Elijah time. I tend to race home in order to make it through the door at 7:45. Which gives me fifteen full minutes to whip my son up into a fevered frenzy before he has to go to bed.

The other night I got home and Eli attacked me (naked) when I got to the top of the stairs.

“I want money!”

I looked in my pockets and found a few pennies. I handed them to Eli.

“No! I want money!”

“What, do you want a check?”

Diana clarified, “He wants you to do ‘One for the Money.’”

Now, for those of you who aren’t two and a half and live in our house, “One for the Money” involves swinging Eli over our bed four times while saying, “One for the money! Two for the show! Three to get ready! And go!”

And then you toss him onto the bed, hoping he will not land on his head, or land on our headboard. Or land on the floor.

He prefers when I do “One For The Money” because I have less regard for his safety than Diana. Eli ended up on my bedside table a few weeks ago, but laughed like a hyena.

Given the fact that he is a good thirty pounds, it’s quite a workout. And since my schedule doesn’t allow eating, let alone going to the gym, I will do “One for the Money” as many times as my muscles will allow.

Diana, on the other hand, is currently carrying around another person. So her ability to accomplish multiple “One for the Moneys” is severely limited.

Yesterday, Eli was bugging her. “I want money! I want money.”

Diana said, “I’m sorry, honey. Mommy’s back hurts. I can’t do ‘One for the Money.’”

Eli looked at her cross and said, “You back is fine. I want money.”

It’s the root of all evil.