11.20.2010

Cart-Will

My sweet, sweet baby. The happy one. The one who always looks like this.
He's making me old. And he's contributing to my grey hair. And causing me to have heart failure on a daily basis. Why? Because he falls or tumbles All. The. Time. He is constantly standing up where he has no business being like the french doors or the refrigerator. Places that have no where for him to hold onto. And so he falls. And bruises his face. Or busts his lip. Jody has nicknamed him Cart-Will because he constantly rolls off the step into the den. Tonight we hadn't been home from Nan and JP's for five minutes before he had fallen. I ran to him and immediately saw blood coming from his mouth. To which I began yelling, "Jody! Jody! He's fallen again. And there's blood! Blood! He's bleeding! He's bleeding!" My husband gave me a quick you're losing your mind look and glanced at my baby's mouth. "He's fine. It's just a little blood." "But, But," I replied. "This is the second time in three days that he's busted his mouth. He could be damaging his gums or teeth or something." To which my husband walked away from me mumbling about me needing to star in my own movie. And that the name of my movie should be Eat. Pray. Dramatic. I was not amused. I am seriously considering purchasing one of those safety helmets that you see in those ridiculous baby magazines. You know the one with the kid wearing a helmet and a harness and learning to walk with his parents hovering over him. I'm in the market for one of those. I wonder if they make one in festive Christmas colors.

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