It seems that children are clumsier than I am. I am 6'5" and, despite my athletic prowess, I have a propensity for falling down. Although said falls have begun to decline in frequency, they still happen, especially when playing on my men's league hockey team. It is highly entertaining for my friends, as I don't usually fall from contact, but from making some mundane skating move, like coming to a stop away from the play after the whistle has blown. There I am, down on the ice - the human Zamboni.
And yet, these little people, who stand less than four feet tall, trip over, fall over, stumble over, bump into, and scrape everything they come within ten feet of. Sometimes they fall for no reason at all. My son, my pride and joy, still has much to learn. Never mind that he's six months old. I am neither prejudiced with regards to age nor to sex. Today he managed to hurt himself twice.
The first incident occurred in the morning. We were sitting on carpeted floor across from each other, about two feet between us, rolling a ball back and forth. As best as possible, anyway. With no warning, he falls backward and hits the carpet head first. There was a bit of crying after that. But he's tough and didn't want to come out of the game.
The second incident happened in the afternoon. He was playing on my lap when it put him on his tummy. His hands reached down to the floor and soon he was in push-up position. That lasted only a few seconds as his arms gave way and he was soon kissing the wood floor. I don't want to say that it sounded like a golf ball bouncing on the floor, but. . . you get the idea. There was more crying after that. We went to the grocery store and he resumed his usual demeanor, flirting with all of the female shoppers.
Maybe I should go easy on the kid. I, of all people, should know how hard it is to grow into a quickly growing body. In reality, I probably just want what most parents want - for the child to improve upon the parents.