Guilt trip

Ladybug’s top molars are coming in so she hasn’t been in the best of moods the last couple of days. Today was particularly cranky, so my husband and I were extra diligent in doling out lots of kisses and cuddles. It must have worked because around dinner time Ladybug shifted from quiet to exuberant mode and launched into one of her newly acquired skills – twirling.

Normally this isn’t a problem. Her main play area is largely void of all things pointy, hard and otherwise potentially dangerous. But we were in the not-so-well-babyproofed TV room when she started spinning faster and faster until she was so dizzy that she fell forward and smacked her face on the TV stand.

I felt like I was watching it in slow motion – Ladybug losing her balance, my husband and I jumping up from our recliners and running toward her in anticipation of what was going to happen next, getting there just as her nose and mouth made contact with the edge, my heart pounding in terror as blood trickled from some as-yet undetermined injury.

If you’ve ever seen your child get hurt, you know the guilt that follows: What was I thinking, letting her twirl in here? Why didn’t I stop her? Why did I let her in this normally off-limits room anyway? Because we were parents doing our best to try to make Ladybug feel better on an uncomfortable day, I tried to remind myself.

Once we got Ladybug’s face wiped up and gave her a popsicle to suck to soothe her swollen lip, she was fine.

Now if I could just say the same thing about me.