Flametoad

As some of you know, I have a 4 year old and a 16 month old. This weekend was the first time one of my little ones got seriously hurt.

Of course, there’s seriously hurt, then there’s seriously hurt. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. It wasn’t a car wreck. There were no broken bones involved. Maybe a more experienced family would chuckle over the relatively minor accident. But as I said, I have a 4 year old and this crosses a new line.

I’ll won’t go into gory detail. It won’t mean anywhere near as much to you as it did to me. My 16 month old (Tadpole 2) was playing in an old fast food restaurant play area. She was doing a controlled slide off a tiny plastic playhouse when she fell forward and onto her face. The play area is nothing more than carpet over cement with absolutely no padding. She sat up with tears pouring down her face and blood pouring from both nostrils. It broke my heart, but fortunately not her nose. The bleeding slowed and stopped, and she was back playing within 10 minutes. I don’t know why I’ve been blessed for as long as I have with such accident-free kids, but I sure didn’t like my brush with the alternative.

Sunday temperature reached near 100 degrees farenheit, and my 4 year old (Tadpole 1) decided that a “splash day” in his back yard was in order. I agreed, and we set up the inflatable kiddie pool and water sprinkler, much to the delight of both kids. I kept the kids occupied outside, which bought Mrs. Flametoad some precious, uninterrupted time in the kitchen. Meanwhile, we splashed, took turns with the water gun, pretended to swim in the 4 inch deep water, and generally had a great time. It was one of those special afternoons I’ll carry with me for some time to come, and I wonder if hope it’ll end up becoming one of those early childhood memories–a fun afternoon with Dad. Like all good things, it eventually had to come to an end. The sun was slipping behind the trees and it was actually starting to feel a bit cool. I told Tadpole 1 that we would have to go inside in about 5 minutes. He turned to me and asked, “When it will be five minutes? I hope never!”

He eyes sparkled and his grin was like a ray of light. I wanted to emphatically nod my head and hold onto this moment forever. Even though every day they find new ways to bring me joy, I know the magical days won’t last forever. Ironically I’m the Peter Pan, wishing my own Lost Boy and Wendy would never grow up.

“When it will be five minutes? I hope never!”

Me too, Ben. Me too.