The time my kid tried to kill me or make sure you pay attention to your kids

Long before discovering the joys of writing more than witty one liners, there was an incident in my house with Killian that I posted about on my Facebook. I seem to talk about Killian more then Nicolas because he seems to be the one doing more things that cause me to shake my head or scratch my head quizzically. This incident was documented on my fb page when I had about 200 followers. If you are one of those been there since the beginning folks then this story is a retelling of the time I found my kid tried to take me out.

I work at night. This makes it easier on our family, I can be there to take care of the kids during the day while my wife goes off to do whatever she does to earn a paycheck. No, I don’t know what she does for a living, she has told me a hundred and one times and I just can’t remember. It earns her a paycheck and she doesn’t leave the house in hooker heels so I really don’t care to try and remember what it is. Something to do with being a social worker, and while that is a very appropriate term for stripper I really don’t think she works the red light district.

Working all night and raising kids all day is hard. It’s something that is done out of necessity, not choice. I would love to ship the kids off to a Haitian daycare provider so I could sleep. Actually did do that! They attended daycare for a grand total of four days before anxiety gripped dad pulled them. The point of them going to daycare was so I could rest. All I did was stare at the clock waiting for my kids to come home, worrying about their well being.

So, being at home with the kids, you still have housework to do. So I would try and set the kids up with some distracting activity and set about cleaning like dude Cinderella.

Every parent knows that if a house with kids goes quiet something is up. I was so busy cleaning the living room, I missed the quiet creep in.

As I swept the floor, eyes half open and bloodshot, humming some song about how bad I had it, the quiet crept in.

We had recently moved, so we had moving boxes everywhere. Unbeknownst to me, Killian had taken an empty cardboard box and pushed it up against the cabinets and countertop area. Then he climbed onto it.

CLANG!

“What the fuck have the kids gotten into now?” I wondered to myself as I headed to the kitchen.

And there he was. Killian on top of a box.

Next to the knife block.

Steak knife in hand.

As Killian giggled and stomped his feet I’ll always remember the, “Dude, Not cool!” look on Nicolas’ face. I’m pretty sure that clang I had heard was a knife directed in his direction.

So here I am, face to face with a knife wielding toddler, unsure of exactly what the hell to do. It felt like a tense stand off between us. I knew that if I yelled or moved to fast I might scare him into accidentally dropping the knife, possibly cutting himself. While my kids drive me insane some days, I do enjoy them whole. Didn’t want little man losing a toe! Or worse!

“Hey bubba, what are you doing? Give me that please”

“Killian, you’re so silly! Can daddy have that”

I coaxed and crept closer. Coaxed and crept closer. Coaxed and crept closer.

When I closed about half the distance, I began to reach my hand out for the knife. In my mind I had just negotiated the suspect into handing over his weapon and was going to receive a special commendation from the wife when she got home, if you know what I mean.

Then Killian’s smile grew large and wicked. Little man had other plans.

I recently read an article that said babies are born bad. I’m not for reinforcing that article, but an evil glint crept into this tyrant’s eyes. He pulled his hand back.

CLANG!

I winced. I jumped. I swore.

I’m not proud of swearing at a child, but I stand by it. That motherfuckin kid threw a knife at me.

I swore at my kid.

“WHAT THE FUCK DUDE!”

He THREW a knife at me!

Luckily, this one year old totally sucked at knife throwing. The knife harmlessly slid across the kitchen floor. I sprinted in, scooping up both children and carrying them away from the knife range before returning to gather weapons and break down Killian’s homemade stepping stool.

While the outcome did not involve injury and I can laugh about it, the gravity of the situation has never escaped me. I know how serious the situation was and learned from it. You could say this was the day I grew eyes in the back of my head. Obviously taking your eyes off your kid for a second can lead to disastrous consequences.
Fortunately no one was hurt in my house and it’s something I can laugh about, the knife throwing toddler. And yes, we moved the knife block.

Do you have a similar story? Have your kids ever gotten somewhere they shouldn’t? Is it wrong that after this incident I tried to sell Killian to a traveling circus as the great knife throwing toddler?