Yesterday was a slow-motion day. Not that it was a slow day...no, no, no...there was lots going on...lots of stuff to do, etc.
Whenever one of my kids is about to get hurt from, let's say a fall or something similar, or is about to make a huge mess that I will have to clean up - time slows down...I can see exactly what is about to happen and the screaming, crying and band-aid breaking out that is going to ensue.
This happened multiple times yesterday.
Incident #1 - Baby Boy goes to the office
Baby Boy is a very curious and playful child. Lately, he is also very excited about creative, imaginative play. This is usually a lot of fun because he can now pretend to be a character rather than just saying, "No I Baby Boy" when I suggest he looks like a tiger or a lion or Woody from Toy Story. He also likes to pretend to be a grown up and do grown up things like go to work or school like Daddy. As part of his research efforts for his dissertation, my husband has a nice sized expanding file where he keeps copies of important information from books he has checked out from the library or copies of important musical examples, etc. This sturdy and nifty file, closes with a clasp and has a handle to make it portable enough for him to take with him to the library, office or just about anywhere he wants to have this nice research information. Yesterday, as I was working on something that I'm sure was critical, Baby Boy got into one of his imaginative play moods and decided to be Daddy. I was sitting no less than 5 feet from him when he discovered the research folder. Time began it's eerie slowing motion and I slow-mo turned my head to see what he was getting out. Because time was slow, I had could also see with great sharpness and saw that the clasp had been left undone. I tried to spring out of my chair to save us both from the agony that was at hand, but when you are in slow-mo...you can't move very fast and as the contents of the entire expanding file flowed smoothly onto the floor time sped back up and I was left with a crying Baby Boy who couldn't figure out why a loud-ish "NO!" had just escaped my lips.
Incident #2 - Walking home from the bus stop
As we skipped merrily down the sidewalk (OK, OK...there was no skipping) on our way home after retrieving Big Sis from the bus stop after school, a big fat sidewalk monster jumped up and scared Big Sis. OK...there wasn't any monster. The truth is...I was pushing Baby Boy in the stroller and Big Sis was just walking like normal down the side walk. All of the sudden the seconds expanded and time had slowed down. I looked just a fraction ahead of where here foot was and noticed that the sidewalk was uneven. I could see her toe catching the lip of the crack in the sidewalk and tried to climb over the stroller to save her from breaking her nose. It's a good thing that we have reflexes...because I wasn't anywhere close to saving her and her sweet little hands shot out to break her painful fall. As soon as the fall was over...time sped back up and I was able to get to her side, pick up the water bottle that had been jarred out of the backpack, and pick up the now sobbing 5 year old who had just been betrayed by her feet and the nasty sidewalk. My worst fears were left unconfirmed and Big Sis showed me her scraped up little hands. No big cuts...just a some minor scuffs - but it makes little difference to a 5 year old. She howled just the same. After convincing her that the yellow stuff on her hands was just dust, she calmed back down and we continued to walk home.
Incident #2 - Baby Boy v. the entertainment center
From across the room, I noticed that Baby Boy was having a moment of joy as he galloped around the room in circles. I wondered if he might be getting dizzy when the second hand on my watch started thudding slowly and I looked over to see Baby Boy's delighted gallop turn into the last moment of a bull ride when the cowboy loses his battle with the beast and hits the dirt. Only...there was no dirt to catch Baby Boy...there was nothing but the decorative edge of the wooden shelf that lends itself to the Old School (read, not Digital compatible) TV as a residence. There was no way I was getting to Baby Boy in time and I just wondered how bad it was going to be. As his head struck the shelf, the obnoxious thudding turned back into an indiscernible ticking. I waited for the screech, but Baby Boy was on the breathing-in end of things and I got to him before the blast. I tried to inspect his head but he just buried his face into my shoulder and I had to leave it to Daddy to try to see if there was any blood and where the shelf had actually made it's mark. A lump over the eye was soon visible and I thanked my lucky stars that the impact had not occurred 1/8th of an inch lower.
Does this ever happen to you? The Big Slow Mo...Discuss!
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