Today, the Mystery Man, who still is a little sore around the nose and mouth area from his last fall, climbed a chair. I saw it and was heading toward him to pluck him off... when I saw the chair start to tip.
Sometimes we get a split second that contains more information than seems possible. Sometimes a split second swells to grasp, process, and act on information that would take many, many moments otherwise. In less than the time I had to scream I knew he'd tip over. I knew he'd fall flat on his face - his hands were tucked under the chair back. I knew he might hit the glass kitchen door, as well. I knew there was at the very least a bar stool between us, but that I could still get to him if I didn't care how bad it hurt. And I didn't. I just ran. And I plucked him from the chair as it crashed on my feet and we both stumbled and fell a little but he's fine.
The chairs are all gone now. I'm thinking of a Moroccan style dining experience - big cushy pillows - no pokey utensils. I think they're on to something.
And my toe might be broken, which is totally fine. Every time it hurts I'm so, so glad it's my toe and not his face.
Ok, I still sometimes have a crappy attitude when I'm going upstairs for the third time to tell my daughter that no one pushed a self destruct button and the house isn't going up in smoke and my stupid foot is throbbing.
But mostly, I'm just grateful for that split second.
Posts
On The Nightstand: Wayfarers
1 month ago
1 comments:
It makes one wonder why our society has surrounded itself with so many hard surfaces. Back in the frontier days, a fall off of a chair would have resulted in a thump on a dirt or wooden floor. Painful, but not alarming. There were few things--except actual rocks--that you could hit your head on, that would do actual damage.
March 13, 2009 at 3:17 AMHopefully, the climbing is just a phase.
Post a Comment