I’m sorry if you read this yesterday. I hit publish instead of save draft by accident.
My daughter is now 2 years old and it still gives me heart palpitations every time she climbs on the couch. I immediately worry that she’ll fall. Abby’s just so tiny and her balance still isn’t completely up to par and that’s my baby, darn it. Don’t hurt my baby.
I’ve been trying to let it go, however. Because now, I have greater worries. She’s been following in her brother’s footsteps again, right on top of tables.
I was on the phone with my mother a few days back when she not only scaled the living room table, but then began jumping on top of it. With phone in hand, I immediately sprang into action, swooping her off the slippery surface. “No, Abby! No, no, no!”, I scolded. Right in my mother’s ear. “Don’t do that again, you’ll get boo-boo’s!”
My mom has to love our phone conversations these days. Though it’s her fault for not understanding email.
No sooner did I put her down than Abby runs for the couch. I try to breathe and let it go, continuing our conversation. When I glance again, my daughter’s hopping from cushion to cushion on all four’s. Then bounces herself off with a splat to the floor. I screeched and lurched as fast as I could, but she still came away with her first fat lip. “Boo-boo’s, Abby! BOO-BOO’S!” Right in my mother’s ear.
If I could circle a moment in bold red marker it would be that, right there, that is why I should just invest in a toddler-sized bodysuit of bubble wrap.