After only three weeks, though, he’s still a little wobbly and he’s totally oblivious to changes in terrain. So when he batted my hand away on some uneven sidewalk in Rhinebeck this afternoon, he did his first full-on face plant. Now Z cries a lot, and even some of his tears of frustration are pretty real. But this was different. He was clearly scared and a little banged up and it was all I could do to not start crying myself. Poor baby.
Side note: I’m often amazed at how quickly my frustration with him disappears when he really needs me. He’d been fussing and complaining for a good part of the afternoon and I was about ready to drop him at the local firehouse. And then this happened and all I wanted to do was snuggle him and make it all better. I feel the same way after he goes to sleep each night. I often long for the end of the day so I can get a break from him, and then as soon as he’s asleep I kind of miss him.
So Z was fine after a few minutes and was back to toddling around the streets of Rhinebeck. But an hour or so later this little red bruise showed up on his left cheek. He’s had a couple little bruises on his knees (and the crazy self-inflicted hickey when he was just a few months old), but this was the first time the big bad world left its mark on my baby. I know I have to brace myself for much more serious incidents – he is a crazy boy, after all, bound for trouble. But I’ll be holding his hand a little tighter for awhile, ready to scoop him up the moment he starts to totter.