Head-first
There are parenting moments that make you feel
like the
greatest person alive.
Your child discovers something new, or laughs at something dumb you did, or just gives you that ‘Cool Dad’ admiring stare. These make the struggle worthwhile.
Then there are moments when you feel like an utter git, unworthy of the air you breathe.
Jasper and I were watching soccer together. He’s a Liverpool FC fan, though at the moment only because I have been since 1980, and only because red blobs are easier to follow around the screen.
The little man has been in Turbo Stunt Baby mode for the last month or so (see previous column for explanation) and has given us plenty of warnings about his ability to convert potential energy into kinetic energy. Place him on a bed and he will crawl like crazy towards the precipice, with no regard for his personal safety. A well-timed grab prevents disaster.
But during the second half, a second half in which Liverpool abjectly failed to find a goal against a weak Arsenal side ripe for the taking, Jasper made his trademark dash, and in common with the Reds’ strikers… I missed.
There followed the horrible instant when you are helpless to prevent the impact and yet fully aware that it’s coming. Anybody who can remember what it’s like to fall off a bicycle, balance lost and the ground coming up to meet you, will sympathise.
In this case, JD’s little feet disappeared over the edge of the bed and a millisecond later, a loud and in-no-way-subtle THUMP! sounded as baby met ground at ten metres per second.
Cue the brief, horrible silence. Then the relief of screaming, combined with guilt. Fortunately in an attempt to make our house more appealling to potential buyers, we had just installed a thick IKEA rug on that side of the bed. Jasper hit it right in the middle.
Carolina was brilliant, making me feel a million times better about the incident (though I still felt like a louse).
We kept Jasper under observation for 48 hours, waking him up regularly from sleep in case of a concussion. Lessons were learned (by me, at least: I’d wager JD will attempt to take the plunge again soon).
On top of it all, Liverpool finally scored with two minutes to go. I was ridiculously grateful: but not for the goal. Sleep well.
