Little Man mastered the stairs early. He showed an interest so we encouraged him. He was scrambling up and down the stairs like a pro. Right up to one fateful day when his excitement got the best of him; his legs tangled and he went flying. Well, bouncing really – head over heels down the stairs. It happened so fast all we could do was watch in horror. The half second it took for him to push himself up and start wailing was an eternity. We watched this tiny little child’s short life flash before our eyes and that wail was a huge relief in a truly bizarre manner.
That day slammed reality home hard for me. I’ve watched my son like a hawk from the moment the doctor presented his bloody messy little body announcing “isn’t he adorable?” . I’ve carefully decided which boo boos would be allowed, which would be postponed until a later date and which were to be avoided at all costs. Those that were allowed, I attempted pretty successfully to mitigate the harm done. He knows to keep his head down when crawling under the table because mommy’s hand is not always there to cushion the thump. Those that I thought should be postponed? Well, I’ve had some failures there. First blood was not to be drawn until he was old enough to drive himself to the ER. He didn’t make it to the 3 month mark before mommy blew that one out of the water and promptly went back to biting his nails rather than clipping them. Now that I feel he is old enough, I am trying to teach him how to bite them off himself. Chew, bite, spit. Chew, bite, spit. Pretty simple eh? Yeah. He’s learned spit. Brilliant.
Bouncing down the stairs head over heels fell into the category of Boo-Boos to be avoided at all costs. I’d say give me a big fat red F in that category but my son taught me that he bounces better than a basketball so maybe only a D. He came through the ordeal unscathed. Sure he cried for awhile but that was probably due to the fact that mommy and daddy were freaking out and mommy was pushing and prodding every millimeter of his body to make sure all was intact. Nothing broken. No concussion. Yes, we took him to the doctor to make sure.
Since that fateful day several months ago, Little Man has not been allowed to go down the stairs. Up, yes but not down. He is carried each and every time. Well, each and every time mama is in the house. I suspect but have not been able to prove that daddy has let him crawl down the stairs since then and managed to hide it from me. Very smart man my husband. He knows my limits.
So if the love of my life can’t convince me to let my child go back to mastering getting down stairs sometime before heading off to college, what hope did my son have? Enter my neighbor who while younger than me, has more mommy experience than me. She politely and ever so subtly told me to get the hell over it. I allowed my son to go down her stairs. He chose to bounce down but this time he bounced on his butt in a semi-controlled manner with mama close by just in case (yes, I deleted the word “hovering” as the image of me as a helicopter parent just scared the bejesus out of me. Oh sweet Universe).
I now realize that there are some boo-boos you just can’t avoid no matter what. Little Man still does not have free reign of the stairs. If I think he is too excited to go downstairs, I carry him. It’s working for both of us. My heart is not about to race itself into an implosion and Little Man is learning that approaching certain situations calmly means mama backs off. This still doesn’t mean I don’t freak out when he gets too close to the curb. You can’t expect all my irrational fears to dissipate with one “ah ha” moment. We are dealing with reality here people.
The kid has to learn and unfortunately he has a strong mix of genes in him that will lead him to learning through doing, not observing. Watching another child take a header off the top of the bookshelf will not stop my son from trying. In fact it may encourage him. My brother is the reason we have covers for electrical outlets and I am sure at least one other child safety device. He survived his childhood with scars he still shows off with pride. So I know there is hope for my son. The question is – is there hope for mama?
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