My child is almost crawling. Crawling. Which means mobile. Which means she can move, and get into things, and things can fall on her, and she can bump her head, and I am not nearly ready for that type of stress. In the past week or so, here are just a handful of completely absurd fears that I have had.
1) Everything looks like a death trap. I was sitting on my couch a few nights ago, looking down at my little one propping herself up, working to tuck her knee in under her belly, grunting with effort and frustration at not being able to move, and it hit me – this kid is going to be moving, very very soon. I glanced around my house, and suddenly it looked like everything was out to get my baby. The book shelf with a glass bowl on top of it, my liquor cabinet, the edge of the coffee table, the TV wires… like a cartoon from my youth, every inanimate object suddenly had teeth and glaring eyeballs. STAY BACK, YOU MONSTERS.
2) My child will have no fears. It has become a legitimate concern that my child will fear nothing. Not a single sharp object, nor sudden drop, nor unconquered step will impose any level of realistic expectations in her brain. This means my house must be very clean, very organized, and I must be very attentive to what my little one gets into. This little child will be fearless, which is good I guess, since I will be scared enough for the both of us.
3) Is everything poisonous? No really, is it? Because it certainly seems that way. I thought about what is currently under my sink, and saw nothing but more ways for my baby to get hurt. Okay, Jon, so just move the stuff. I’m in an 1,100 square foot townhouse; there is nowhere to store the cleaning supplies that my daughter will not be able to reach. That’s it, It’s all going in the trash. Everything gets cleaned with vinegar from here on.
4) Nothing is allowed to be hot ever again. I’m fairly positive that everything hot is going to give my child severe burns, now that she is going to have the ability to move to the hot things, reach for the hot things, and spill the hot things. A nice cup of hot coffee? Never again. That little cup o’ joe now looks like a fire-filled cup of lava just waiting to harm my daughter.
This is my life as dad. The world is not a playground, it is in fact a giant monster waiting for the chance to hurt my perfect little daughter. Here come the bumps and bruises of a crawler.