Tuesday, June 23, 2009

The adventures of Middle-Bug continue...

This child is trying to give me a heart attack! Middle-Bug, who is currently approaching 21 months of age, has a new found love...football. When I walk into his room in the morning to get him from his crib, his first words to me are "Wook! Bookball!" as he excitedly points to his toy box. The second his feet hit the floor he runs over and picks up his beloved ball, which he continues to clutch to his chest while his diaper is changed and breakfast is prepared. Throughout the day he will present his ball to me with a sweet "pwease!" hoping I will hold it so he can take a running kick, sometimes I will admit, I indulge him (he actually has a pretty good kick!) Later as I sit on the floor with the boys, Middle-Bug will go down into a three-point stance, look at me from across the room and yell "hut, hut, hike!" and tackle me for all he's worth (which thankfully ends up very similar to a hug.) Harmless enough, right? Well here comes the problem. Middle-Bug's 3 year old big brother is his favorite playmate and is more than pleased to engage in a little game of football with his baby brother. Only, in Big-Bug's eyes, Middle-Bug isn't much of a baby anymore and doesn't require the gentle touch of days gone by. So the other day, as I innocently stand in the kitchen preparing dinner, the boys start up a game of football in the living room. I can't see them from my angle, but I hear plenty of giggles on both sides so figure they are having a good time. Not a minute later, the boys come barreling into view, Middle-Bug in the lead (with the "bookball") and Big-Bug in hot pursuit. As they near the dining room table (yep, you can see where this is headed) Big-Bug tackles Middle-Bug from behind, sending him flying forward through the air. His flight is stopped by the corner of a leg of a dining room chair which catches him directly in the eye/brow bone/cheek bone and instantly bruises in a long vertical line down the entire left side of his face. I immediately assume the worst and spend the next 15 minutes poking and prodding on Middle-Bug's face checking for fractures or tenderness and watching his pupils for normal constriction/dilation. Once I had satisfied myself that the bruise is the worst of his injuries, I served dinner. So now my 21 month old son has the gnarliest of black eyes as well as a huge bruise to his cheek. His first football injury....time to buy that kid a helmet with a face guard.

2 comments:

Jessy said...

Poor baby! Isn't it awful to watch in helpless, slow motion?

Grets said...

oh yes! I used to think it was bad when Ian was little and would bump his head and have a litte red spot for an hour or two lol It's a lot tougher being second!!

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