Blog Catch-Up

Since I've been so lax in my blogging this month I wanted to add another short story. Dylan and I were sitting at dinner tonight and Eli, who has become quite fast on his bottom, was scooting in our general direction from our living room. He was either headed for us or his favorite floor lamp (remember the post about liking lamps? He's still carrying the flame). Personally my vote was for the lamp. Who can pass that up? Plus, he'd tried to get it earlier in the day and had been stopped by his Grandma Bev. I can just imagine the thoughts that went through his cute, round, little head. "Well, since they don't want me to get it, then it must be something REALLY GREAT!" So I told Dylan that he had to go intercept the little scooter before he broke his face on the lamp. He was elected by me to get up from the dinner table because he's the one who has been wanting Eli to be on the move since before Thanksgiving. And now he got his wish. And I told him to be careful with that particular one. Needless to say he barely made it in time, the lamp was probably inches from Eli's forehead when Dylan snatched it out of mid-air with a verbal reprimand to the baby. (the 11 month old baby for whom most words hold little meaning) This near miss was my first clue that movement could mean that I will need to be a lot more vigilant with this little guy now. The second clue came about 10 minutes later when he held up a bloody hand after opening the drawer under the oven. Who knew that it had such a sharp edge? Luckily the cut was small and Eli was more annoyed with the band aid process then anything else. The third, fourth, fifth, etc. clues came during the rest of the night when he bumped his head on the coffee table (while I was holding him), tried to drown himself in the tub with a cup of water (while I was watching him), and tried to eat the band aid off his thumb (that I had taken off and was letting him look at). Notice a pattern here? Now Grandma Jackie, before you get in your car to come down and protect the poor child from his own mother, know that I have vowed that tomorrow will be better with less bumps, bruises, cuts and attempted drownings! Or maybe this is just what having a boy is all about? Nah, I'm pretty sure this is mostly a new mom learning curve ;) Oh well, didn't people used to let their kids play with balloons or sharp sticks or something like that?