Chris was in a pissy mood last night after I beat him in Candyland. (Guess what kid? Life ain't fair.)

He was sitting on the floor playing with his Magnetix after the Candyland fiasco and was getting frustrated because he couldn't make whatever it was he was trying to make. So he would throw himself backward and lay there for a minute pouting. I kept telling him to go do something else and put the Magnetix away. About the third time he did this, he was a little too close to the coffee table* and cracked the back of his head on the edge.

My inner 12-year-old was pointing and laughing at him, but the (much) older Mom just sat there with a "See?" look on my face.

He cried and cried and finally David called him over to have a look. No blood, but maybe that will teach him a lesson about his temper (which, by the way, he inherited from his dad).

*Actually coffee table is a misnomer. It is more of a Diet Coke table.