Who's the Grownup?

After snapping at each other off and on for the past two days, the situation reached critical mass this afternoon, when a seemingly benign and mutually agreed-upon tickle fight turned a little bit reckless and unpleasant. I sent the kiddo to sit on the stairs to think about why he's not supposed to kick Mommy, and I took a few minutes to compose myself while seeing stars and holding my knee. After about five minutes of watching Top Chef with the sound off (not being able to hear the show from around the corner being part of the kiddo's penalty -- yep, he loves Top Chef and all things competitive), I called him back over to the couch. He plopped himself down next to me and, to my surprise, put his hand on my back.

"What's wrong with us?" he asked.

That's my kid -- from 6 to 45 in a matter of minutes.