I goofed today and my baby got hurt. He wasn’t hurt very bad, but still, it was my fault and I felt awful.
I was getting him ready for church and I laid him down on Lincoln’s bed. I turned to the closet, which is just an arm’s reach away, and heard a “THUMP!” and then a scream.
Kai had rolled over in the three seconds it had taken me grab his church shirt and turn back to him.
He fell on his back and it knocked the wind out of him. Luckily Lincoln’s bed is pretty low to the ground, but for a baby it was still a decent fall.
He cried. And cried. And cried.
I fought my own tears as I rocked him and whispered in his ear.
The other three kids were instantly on top of me.
“Is he okay?!”
“Did you drop him?!”
And then my favorite from Luca, “Give him to me mom! I need to hold him!”
Like I can’t be trusted with him now. I hurt him once and I might do it again!
Actually, I thought it was pretty sweet that she thought she needed to be the one to comfort him.
He was fine after about three minutes of love and attention and he had a great rest of the day.
Whims 