When my daughter was around 3 years old, she asked if she could play with my umbrella. I was a young Mom who didn’t, shall we say, know sh*t from Shinola (I’m Southern AND old so this is how I swear. Just FYI.) I quickly ran through all the possible umbrella accidents that could occur. She could stab herself in the eye, I thought. She could open it in the house and doom me to 7 years back luck. Or, she could stab herself in the foot with it.
While a lot of potential for stabbing existed, my young mom brain figured if I watched her carefully she would be fine in my presence, pretending she was a three year old cartoon villain. I mean what little girl WOULDN’T want to walk around looking like the Penguin in a Batman showdown?
And then the phone rang. Famous last words for every Mom who recounts how her kids got hurt in some bizarre way. When I turned back around, not 60 seconds after I’d said, “hello,” my beautiful daughter was standing in front of me screaming, the curved handle of the umbrella stuck firmly between her bottom jaw & top jaw. Wow. I hadn’t seen that one coming.
In the end she wasn’t hurt at all, but now that she’s a grown up with kids of her own, I still feel guilty every time it rains. 🙂 Sometimes I need a reminder (and you probably do, too) that compared to our great-great grandmothers, we’re doing a pretty okay job as Moms.
- You never made your child become a coal miner.
