Some parents hold their children lovingly at night, looking at their sweet faces, wondering what they will become when they are grown.
A doctor?
A lawyer?
A priest?! (PLEASE GOD…very little chance of physical injury there!)
My days of wondering are over. He made his choice plain this morning. Despite threats, time outs, and my howling at the moon, he continues to climb onto the back of the couch and horse around….because nothing bad could happen back there, right? I mean really, it’s against the wall and a padded surface.
Toddler face…meet wall… howling of his own ensues.
He came down crying and with an indignation only someone who was totally in the wrong could muster. His torment lasted all of twenty seconds.
He smiled.
He laughed.
And the blood from his busted bottom lip poured down his little chest. And pooled on my t-shirt.
Thank you son.
My son? He will be a hockey player.
*parenting disclaimer: I only picked up the camera when I went into the kitchen to get a clean towel with which to wipe away the torrent of blood. This is what was left after the initial wiping. His state of total uncaring is what prompted me to take a picture.
*what you don’t see: the nice and thankfully small, blood spatter on the wall behind the couch. Mr. Clean: you have your work cut out for you.
Or a model.
He is ADORABLE!