Wipeout

Late on Tuesday night we were awakened by a horrible choking noise. Both Mr. b and I bolted, thinking something was wrong with the baby. My sleep addled brain thought Kirk was on the floor next to my side of the bed, since that’s where the noise was coming from. Turns out it was the cat, beginning her process of horking up a hairball.

So we’re not the worst parents in the world. We are mindful of our child’s safety. Yet his current favorite toy? A very long green ribbon. Total strangulation hazard. But he loves chewing on it and swinging an end around and sucking his fingers through it. We never let him play with the ribbon unsupervised. Though we do call it the Poison Ribbon because when Kirk first started putting it in his mouth, Mr. b was worried that it was toxic. Since the ribbon had originally been wrapped around a giant stuffed dog his aunt bought for Kirk I pointed out that, “She didn’t get it from the Poison Ribbon Manufacturers of America.”

Yet Kirk is definitely entering the getting-knocked-about stage. An hour before going to his 9 month check up he pulled the Playstation down on top of his head. Left a nice mark for Doc to notice. And Monday night I had him in his walker out in front of the house. He was having a great time running around on the concrete but kept backing up until his rear wheels were stuck in the soft dirt of the hastas bed. I would free him and he’d be off again. Then he managed to get both right wheels into the dirt and over he tipped. It was total slow motion and I couldn’t get there in time to stop him. Of course he didn’t start crying when I set him back upright. No, he started wailing as soon as Mr. b tried wiping the dirt off his face. That boy hates having his face cleaned.