Brennan took a particularly nasty spill onto our ceramic tile kitchen floor yesterday. He fell flat on his back and banged the back of his head with a resounding thump. He screamed and cried as I tried to comfort him. With tears streaming down his face, he reached his hand behind his head to rub his sore bumped noggin. Almost immediately, the wailing stopped. With big tears shining in his wide eyes, he exclaimed with wonder, “Mommy, I didn’t crack my head open.”
I think I spend a little too much time yelling to the boys to stop jumping, climbing, free falling or any other ingenious death defying trick they can come up with or “for the love of God they will crack their head open.”
I have a feeling this threat of a cracked head will not have the same weight with Brennan after this experience.
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