It was the thrilla in vanilla. Vanilla pajamas with polka dots that is, with little Bryce in them, her pulling open the bottom dresser drawer in our bedroom in order to stand and investigate.
Pulling it open because she can. Just like she can crawl like a 9-month-old espresso-powered tortoise all over the house, the grass, the sandbox -- quite a contrast to Beatrice who walked at 11 months but didn't crawl until almost 17 months.
Bryce, a flower of awareness awakening to the morning dew and the warm summer sun. Bryce, much more of a Curious Georgette than her sister, getting into anything and everything and ensuring it's strewn willy-nilly all over the friggin' place. (Well, Bea did/does that too; they both make a mess.)
However, just like her big sister did, Bryce is now bonking her head and body all over the place. Because that's a universal for all babies, toddlers and children -- falling down and beating themselves up in the name of exploration and unknowingly fearless acrobatics. Parents need zero gravity rooms, you know?
So that was the deal earlier this week, Bryce pulling open the bottom dresser drawer to stand tall like a big girl, until --
She fell and the small drawer knob punched her right in the left eye and she was down for the count. Thankfully she had closed both eyes prior to hitting, but it still left quite a welt and a mark under her eye (which has since subsided). Mama made it all better and then we went on with our day.
But then later that same day when Mama's out with Bea and I'm working out in my home office, our diligent childcare specialist (better name than the "sitter" and not as pretentious as "nanny") comes out carrying a crying Bryce who now has a bleeding, fat, split lip along with her swollen eye. She had fallen and hit her mouth on the baby "lights, shapes and sound" activity table we have in the
living room child toy kingdom.
Not the Thrilla in Manilla Ali-Frazier fight by a long shot, but no parent likes to watch their child wail in pain after falling down again and again and going --
No, we prefer the smiles and goofy looks our babies give us, at least until rounds two and beyond.
In this corner, wearing white, from the city of the "Holy Cross" by the sea...