Bumps & Bruises

For some unknown reason, being around kids seems to lead to an inordinate amount of bumps and bruises. I am not, by nature, a clumsy person. Forgetful, yes; Evasive, possibly; but clumsy, no. So it is bizarre that in the past two weeks I should so injure myself. I have come to the conclusion that it has much to do with hanging out with my adorable, fun-loving cousins of 9 (well, 8, but we'll give him 9, he's really close), 6, and 3. Today, I bonked my head in a rather unseemly manner on a counter. I can't even blame the counter for excessive portrusion, 'cause it was pretty decently minding its own business when I bent down to pick up my shoe, stood up, and WHACK- hit my skull. This while coming in to shod myself in preparation for watching said 3 year-old pedal around on a trike.
Then the other day, as I was getting my dear 6-year-old cousin to go to bed, I somehow managed to slip on the stairs, slide halfway down them, and acquire a bruise I can now be most proud of. I don't know that my skin has ever been such a brightly-colored canvas and this, in fact, has served me well for comforting her about her newly acquired bruise from falling off her bike.
Other bodily injuries sustained with/around/because of my hilarious cousins include mild scalding while attempting to make a cake with one of the kids, assorted bruises on my head, arms, legs, and other random body parts, acquired when being assaulted by said cousins, and some aches and pains in my toes where Mr. I-just-learned-how-to-pedal-my tricycle pedaled the blasted thing right over my feet.
I have therefore come to the conclusion that having kids- though fun in some respects- is dangerous and to be recommended only to those with a strong constitution (aka good health), a good heart, and a strong sense of fun.
Boy, am I gonna miss 'em.