I Broke My Baby
Alex Steinman
At a week from turning one, Cooper is walking for real now. Why is he standing on that? How the hell did he get up there? Where is he? These are new questions. With acceleration, comes gravity. You know when you have a bad day at work, and you're so emotionally drained that the smallest things set you off? Now, imagine tiny #gingerbaby having this day (in a tiny business suit because it's cuter that way). Maybe it's teething, clumsy genes, the blood moon or some combination of the three, but the kid could not catch a break.
He smacked himself in the face with a coaster this morning, followed by a fall on the back of his head, and then a plop on the front of his face. After we recovered from the face plant, we read 100 books, and then headed straight to the dresser where we proceeded to close our fingers in the drawer.
This is from another day but pretty much sums it up.
Our typical bonk reactions, where we clap and enthusiastically say, "Sometimes we go boom!" were dismissed by tantrums of epic proportions. The bruise on his forehead, the egg on the back of his head, and the tiny red finger were snuggled and kissed. I'm not even sure how he was able to get these injuries because he spent most of the day in my arms.
It was definitely a step-off-unless-you're-my-mama kind of day for Cooper. He wanted nothing to do with #gingerdad or anyone else. He even gave the kind greeter at Home Depot the side-eye. I love snuggles, but I'm feeling a little touched out today.
I know falling is how he gets smarter, but maybe he should just be dumb and in bubble wrap.
Toddlering is hard. Get a helmet.