April 14, 2014 at 10:06 pm , by Nick Shell
3 years, 4 months.
While you’ve been enjoying the splendor of Band-Aids for quite a while now, or as you refer to them, “tattoos,” it wasn’t truly until this past weekend that you really needed them.
Saturday morning we were helping our next door neighbor Rachel move her elliptical to the other side of the neighborhood, where the community yard sale was going on.
(Fortunately, the thing had wheels on the bottom.)
On the walk back to our house, you were running ahead of me on the sidewalk, in flip-flops.
Granted, I did indeed yell out to you, “Jack, slow down! Let me catch up to you.”
It was precisely 5 seconds later that you fell down, scraping your elbows and knees.
There really wasn’t much blood at all, but it was enough to scare you.
After all, you’ve never really fallen down and gotten hurt before. And that’s pretty amazing, actually!
I can’t believe that you made it until nearly age 3 and a half before your first real accidental injury. Had you not been wearing flip-flops, I doubt it would have even happened.
You’re a boy. You’re supposed to get cut up and bruised on a fairly regular basis, right? That’s how I remember it, first hand in the 1980s.
I find it interesting that you typically remain so unscathed…
Makes me wonder if there’s any way I’m a helicopter parent who is in denial? I try to give you all the practical freedom that a modern day American dad can give his son.
Or maybe you’re just now getting to the age where you can really start getting into trouble?
While I hate to see you get hurt, there is definitely a part of me that is proud to see you growing up, like a little boy should- with scraped elbows and knees.
And well-earned Mater Band-Aids.