So I had my first accident with Bren the other day. He's approaching 16 months now, big and strong, and he, my wife, and I went for a walk after we picked him up from daycare. We were about 2/3 done with our walk and he was wanting out of the stroller, so I picked him up and put him on my shoulders, and started bouncing around and being goofy and making him laugh. That's when he decided to grab the glasses off my face...I was holding him by his legs, so I let go of his right leg to try and get my glasses back, and he twisted away from my hand, and I lost my grip with my left hand, and next thing I knew the wife was screaming and I could feel Bren tumbling down my back.
We were walking along a concrete path in a park near our house, but somehow (divine intervention?) I had moved to the edge of the path, and when I looked down, Bren was landing on the dirt next to the path, thank god. He landed on his upper back/shoulders first, then hit the back of his head. My wife grabbed him from the ground with tears in her eyes already, and we looked him over. There wasn't any blood, and there wasn't any obvious swelling yet, and when I reached out to touch him she pulled away from me and started to walk away with him. He was crying, too, but as they walked towards a picnic table he started to calm down, until he realized how upset mom was and then he got riled up again. I gave them their space for a minute, then made my way over to the bench to see how he was doing. He reached for me when I got over there, and he stopped crying when I took him, and I couldn't stop apologizing to him...over and over and over again I told him how sorry I was.
As we walked back towards home, he was fairly quiet, not as chatty as he had been before. We started kind of quizzing him on some of his favorite words, which he started to repeat. We put him down, and he was walking fine. We were actually supposed to meet my family for dinner that evening, and by the time we got home he was pretty much himself. My dad is a doc, so I figured that if there were any signs of problems he would be able to help diagnose. And the rest of the night he was totally himself, if not a bit more rambunctious than normal. Not a single problem since then.
Since then, I keep flashing back to it, but instead of seeing him land on the dirt on his shoulders, I see him landing on the concrete on his head or neck, and not moving afterward. It scares the shit out of me how lucky we got, to drop a kid from six feet up and have him come out unscathed is incredible. I wonder if I'm ever going to feel comfortable carrying him on my shoulders any more...something I absolutely love to do. I wonder if my wife will LET me carry him on my shoulders...
Anyways, this came out longer than intended, just needed to vent a little and get it off my chest. Hopefully the flashes of guilt will subside soon enough and we can get back to roughhousing like he enjoys...
I solemnly swear to never cheer for TO