Sometimes I laugh at my kids.....

I do. And let's be honest, who doesn't, at some point in time, laugh at their child for something they may say or do.

I'll give you an example. Little Mr Nearly 3 likes the independence of getting himself undressed at the end of the day. He grunts and groans and contorts his body in every attempt to remove an arm from the vice-like grip of the sleeve of his t-shirt. Once one arm is free the other follows without too much difficulty.

The neck, however, is a different story. At times I have been witness to the sight of a t-shirt wedged firmly with the neck of the shirt locked underneath little man's nose, one of his ears protruding from one side of the neck of the shirt, the other brutally squashed as he yanks, to no avail, upon the shirt, aiming to rip it over the top of his head but succeeding only in pulling himself backwards and off balance. And when I finally step in to assist after he gets to the point of frustration and screams "I'M STUCK!", the shirt pops off with all the force of a champagne cork escaping the neck of a bottle. Although rarely is such a smiling face seen once the cork is removed.

Without a doubt, however, the best act of self-harm I have been fortunate enough to witness was my son removing his socks. And yes. I laughed. I am a bad mother. But seriously, it was inadvertent. It was like when someone tells you a joke that is just SO funny you snort laugh. There is no holding back. It is instinctive. It is unintended. It is hilarious.

So as he sat on the ground, refusing any help I offered, I sat back and watched. His socks had been on his little feet all day, trapped inside the runners that ran more than any child's shoes should have to run. He doesn't stop. From the moment his feet hit the ground until they are back in their bed, it's on. Like Donkey Kong. Thus, the socks were, how shall I say, moist. Ish. And thus they stuck to his feet just a tad.

So when he opted to remove the socks by holding the toes and pulling, well, I was a little concerned. There was resistance. Said sock did not wish to be removed from said foot in this manner. However my little tenacious boy kept at it, pulling, and yanking, and in doing so literally rolling himself all over the floor repeatedly, the sock staying put.

It was when it started to budge that things got really interesting. You see, he did not change the force with which he was pulling when the sock began to give, so when it finally allowed itself to be freed from his foot, my darling little boy proceeded to punch himself in the nose, freed sock in hand.

And I laughed. Really loudly. Like a guffaw.

And my little man looked at me. Stunned. As if he had just been punched in the face. Which, of course, he had.

But looking back, I think my maniacal and completely unstoppable laughter actually helped in the circumstances. Cos it wouldn't have tickled.....And yet he didn't cry. After watching me get to the point of hysterical tears he actually cracked a little smile.

And so he asked me to take the other sock off for him. Which I did. And then I got him some frozen peas to put on his schnoz. And so he did. And yes, the nose swelled a little and was a bit red and tender, but at least it didn't end as badly as it could have.... and my gosh it was hilarious.

One of those mental pictures that will stay with me for an eternity. My son, punching himself in the face with a sock.

Ah kids. A constant source of entertainment.