How Many Lumps Would You Like?

Sigh.

My daughter: large for her age? Oh, yes.

Coordinated? Not so much.

Spent the afternoon at COSI again, and as usual, Cordy finds new and creative ways to injure herself.

Today, not even 60 seconds after being set free in the play area, she collides with another toddler. They were both running and not looking where they were going, and the collision knocked both to the ground. Cordy started crying, and the little boy, who was smaller than her, was fine. A little soothing and all was good as soon as she saw the water table.

Later, she was playing up in the treehouse area, making herself happy throwing balls and looking into the air jets in the floor. Larger kids came running by, flying up the two steps nearby, then running back down the two steps. Cordy climbed up the steps and walked around the next level up. I could see the wheels in her head turning, as she analyzed how those kids were getting up and down the stairs so quickly.

Now, at this point, I should mention: she’s climbed up and down these stairs before. She knows these stairs well. She’s even given herself a carpetburn on those stairs when she missed a stair while climbing once. You’d think she would have remembered that incident and given those stairs a little more respect.

But this time, she decided she didn’t need to back down the stairs, and tried to step down them. My child. Walking down the steps. My kid, with the short legs, long trunk, and gigantic head. This can’t end well, right?

It didn’t. She got one foot squarely on the first step down, but then forgot that she couldn’t put all of her weight on one leg yet.

The next part was in Mommy Terror Slow Motion (TM): the leg on the first step buckled, throwing her off balance. This allowed her large head to pitch forward, since it’s the heaviest part of her body. The back leg was off the ground now, and I watched her free fall to the next step. The free fall was then stopped short by her head, hitting and bouncing off the railing.

I knew it was going to be bad when she didn’t cry right away. Her little face got red, then purple, as she built up pressure for the scream that was about to be unleashed. And what a scream it was! It stopped one of the older boys cold in his tracks, as he snapped his head around to look at us and say, “Is she OK?”

So we left COSI with a new lump on her forehead. My daughter, the klutz. I somehow think she’s got a long life of klutziness ahead of her (like mother, like daughter). Maybe it’s time to invest in a bike helmet. And make her wear it everywhere.