Head First

I guess it’s called being a boy.  Head first into everything.  Apparently no fear.  Boo boo’s and bleeding soon forgotten.  As long as I can climb it, I will try.  As long as I’m still conscious, I will plot the next challenge. As long as I can walk away, I will try it again.  As long as mom doesn’t decide to wrap me in bubble wrap and duct tape me to the couch, I will try dumb things.  I am boy, hear me cry; at least until I forget it hurts.

I mean, aren’t we raised to believe in the words of Shane Falco….

              

At least that’s what we start to believe as we get into organized sports and start to want to impress our friends and those of the opposite sex. We are basically wired for it.  The bigger the gash, the more stitches (stitches are cool).  The bigger the cast, the more people can sign.  The more bone poking out… Well that one actually hurts for real.

I want Gage to be a devil may care type of individual.  I want him to take chances, within reason, and I want him to feel like anything is possible. But, I would also like him to have all of his teeth and not have any permanent facial scars at the old age of two.  I would like to see him not truly disfigure himself until he decides that the tattoo/piercing life is for him. His constant desire to run headlong into anything, like Gracie on the swing, is going to make that a tight race.

I also want Emilee to feel secure in the fact that Gage is not trying to kill himself, or kill her via heart attack.  His back-flips, which don’t quite have full rotation yet, off of the couch or his head first forays onto the dog crates cause her to believe that he really does have a death wish.  I know that we are simply dealing with a kid that does not know that pain hurts yet.  We typically don’t learn that lesson until we hit about 30 and are still trying to play in pick up football games; or so I have been told. But, Emilee doesn’t fully trust that Gage is firing on all cylinders.  And, that’s because of Gracie.

She may strike a tough pose from time to time, but Gracie is the kind of kid that if she even thinks she might fall she wants to go ahead and prophylactically place the Band-Aid.  We have 18 different ice packs at home, all princess themed, because of her.  A simple fall and the following conversation happens:

AG: Daddy I fell and have blood.

Me: Have blood?

AG: Can’t you I have blood pouring through my skin?

Me: You mean the red spot?
AG: DADDY! I am bleeding to death and need a Band-Aid.

                                                  Me: Of course you do.

Band-Aid is then applied and all is well. I’m pretty sure the kid could have a compound fracture and a Band-Aid would make the pain go away.

But Gage is a different animal. I think he actually likes the taste of his own blood. He busted his lip pretty good, and after 30 seconds of good old crying, he realized that he could suck on his lip and taste it.  Then he would smile! Reminded me of me. Seriously, what true guy hasn’t done the same thing?  I just hope he doesn’t decide to try “other brands”.  The dogs and his sisters might be in trouble.

Keep Smiling,

Rob

               

 PS – I am still considering the Bazaar.