On Tuesday, Baby Grady sustained his first visible injury. A fat lip, as seen above. It happened at daycare and there was an incident report and everything. They felt bad for him; apparently he'd been having a lovely day until his face met the floor. But they didn't feel guilty about it, and I likely would have. Like, I felt really guilty that time I whacked him in the head with a broomstick when he was a newborn. I probably never mentioned it, out of shame. Jasper was so relieved that I accidentally maimed the baby first. And he was fine, of course. Anyway, now that he's mobile, he takes responsibility for doing bodily harm to his baby all by himself. I try to keep him generally safe, but he also has to learn to handle his own balance and such and so there is the occasional hard fall. Such events are inevitable when you approach the world as Baby Grady does (face first and with no regard for personal safety).
As is obvious, he's not terribly fussed about the ordeal. He's a bit of a tough guy, as it turns out. I mean, he's still a bit shy in noisy or crowded environments, and the vacuum terrifies him, and sometimes he finds that a boob in his mouth is really critical to restoring his confidence. But with physical bumps and topples, I am regularly confounded by the things he bounces back from without even a whimper.
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