Danger! Danger!

Its amazing how mobility has changed the way James sees the world- and how we see his interactions. For this 15 month old, there is nothing more attractive than the most dangerous place within reach. Over and over again. It's a wet climate here, so we have gotten used to the change of clothes after repeatedly falling into mud puddles. The past couple of weeks have seen a few more incidents than normal however. You can't keep your eye on them every split second- I've tried and its completely exhausting. Plus, they have to learn, right?
I wonder sometimes, if it is a Mr. Mom syndrome that he ends up in these situations- do women keep their kids from getting into things more?
By getting into things, I first mean that last week James got bitten by the donkey. Not the little baby one (she actually bit me-) but the big Dad donkey at the petting zoo. We were giving them some of the grass they can't reach from outside the fence and I was trying to make sure he kept his little hands safe but all of a sudden I blinked and the baby fingers are stuck in the teeth and there is screaming and I have to coerce the donkey teeth off. No open wound and it seemed much worse at the time, but a sore hand and hurt feelings nonetheless. And a little blood. Around the fingernail. But it was fine soon enough; and of course he just wanted to go back with more grass.
Then there was the next day at the pool, in the very shallow kiddie pool mind you, where I look over in a split second and see James fallen backwards flailing and gulping water, while it takes me an eternity to make my way 3 feet and pull him out. No blood, no foul- just some water swallowed and of course- he wanted to go right back to playing.
Okay, so a week later, but still in the activity level/painful injury continuum- today he falls on the corner of a cabinet, right on the forehead. One of those wait a full 30 seconds before the cry can even make its way out kind of reactions. Here he is playing away after some consolation. It was like a cartoon bruise in about 2 minutes, all bumped up...




We have reached the stage where the line between clearly dangerous and relatively safe can be pretty blurred. Its easy when they are little grubs- once they are exploring (and ecstatic to do so) things are very different.
So- what about chicken bones, you may ask? I was eating my leftovers for lunch today and he (another part of the stage) had to have what I was having. Years of raising dogs has made me paranoid about this but I knew he wasn't going to manage to crack them open anyway...
The following is dedicated to my sister Mary 'Hoover' Liotta; James loved them: