At least maybe the pumpkins had fun

As I mentioned earlier, we carved pumpkins on Tuesday night. It was not a particularly fun experience.

When we were getting ready for bed that night, we were not discussing pumpkins. Nothing even remotely related to pumpkins. However, my butt muscles were sore, like I had gone for a long run or something. But I hadn't. So I mentioned this.

Me: "My butt muscles are sore, like I went for a long run or something. But I didn't."
Jeff: (in a truly caring and concerned voice) "Do you think you hurt it while you were carving pumpkins?" [emphasis added]
Me: "..."
Me: "?"
Me: "You are so weird."

So, seriously: what did he think I was doing to those pumpkins to make my ass hurt?

Cute? Yep. Coordinated? Well...

I suppose you might consider wearing a crash helmet to dinner "overly cautious."

However, if you were Evan, you'd probably find it very appropriate. Reassuring. Necessary, even.

Gravity is not Evan's friend. This kid falls more than anyone I've ever met. A couple of Sundays ago I decided to count how many crashes he had during the week. By Monday evening I had counted 27, and I'm pretty sure I missed a few. I stopped keeping track. Too depressing.

A typical scenario might look like this: Evan walking along a completely even and straight sidewalk, shoes tied (ie, no shoelaces over which to trip), no obstacles in his path. He's singing a little song, happy as a lark, and boom! he's sprawled flat out with scraped knees and a bloody lip.

What happened?!

I don't know why my child can't remain upright. Perhaps he is just more sensitive to the earth's rotation than are the rest of us? Maybe he's like one of those goats that collapses when it is startled? Who knows. I suspect he's just rather uncoordinated.

He's been doing this since he became mobile. He used to spend a lot of time crying, and I used to spend a lot of time worrying. Now we take it in stride. Usually he pops up and smiles and says, "I'm all right!" and goes on his merry way. He has-- astoundingly-- survived four years without a single trip to the emergency room. The other day he tried to climb a tree, which I was pretty sure would end at the hospital, but he survived even that. He's lucky he's so indestructable. A weaker individual would have broken many bones and had some nasty internal bleeding by now.

Evidently he's starting to understand that he is a danger to himself, however. Why else would he have worn his bike helmet to dinner?

Safety first... or not

Some days are just dangerous.

Yesterday, for instance.

Both of these boys went to bed with big ol' goose-eggs on their noggins.

Jensen's was a pedestrian-versus-car door injury. We were in a busy parking lot, I was strapping the baby into the stroller and trying to keep an eye on everyone. Reached up to shut the tailgate of the minivan (shockingly, I drive a minivan). And I actually thought, "Maybe I should yell 'Clear!'" Then I thought, "That's not really necessary." Then I heard the sickening thud. Yes, I hit his head with the tailgate. He was trying to dash into the rear of the van at the same time I decided to close it. It was one of those things that happened before either of us could stop what we were doing.... I'm just glad we were at the doctor's office when it happened. And I'm not feeling quite as enormously guilty this morning as I did last night.

Last night Evan was meandering around the sidewalk. I glanced once and he was just doing whatever it is he does. I glanced again and he was picking himself up off the curb and crying, with a pretty blue bump on his head.

They're both okay today.

I'm thinking maybe helmets should become standard, everyday attire, though.