So the hardest part of Caleb’s injury? Time spent helping him, rewrapping the foot, icing it, getting it set on a pillow (all of which I am happy to do)….but that means time for Kyler.
Time for Kyler to measure teaspoons of cod liver oil all over the kitchen floor then try to wipe it himself and smear oil all over the floor making it slippery and ripe for me to slide across it.
Time for Kyler to ‘paint’ rubber cement glue across the dog kennel and Maggie’s nose.
Time for him to find a steak knife and try to open a bag of chips.
The boy needs a beeper so I know where he is constantly. He can open kid-proof doors. He can move heavy chairs silently so as to reach things much, much higher than his mere 37″ frame. Really, I am never napping, never sitting down, never talking on my phone more than a very brief minute or two, never locked in the bathroom-the door is always open, never not on the watch. Just so I could sit and write this post real quick, he is confined to a kitchen chair with bunnie crackers. Food is the way to that kids heart. It really is.
Shaking my head. How will he make it to adulthood? And what in the world will he be when he grows up? And how in the world can I not squelch all that is innate in him and affirm the way he was divinely created as he seems to have a penchant for