If I had become a mother at a younger age I'm sure my child would have been covered in bruises all the time, because I was very clumsy and reckless. Now I'm paranoid enough to prevent most accidents by moving slowly and carefully and anticipating problems. Jane's infancy was amazingly free of injury (except for the first time I cut her fingernails and managed to draw blood, but we're not going to count that because she doesn't have a scar). Now that she can run and climb it's a lot harder to save her from herself.

This afternoon I was sitting on the couch eating some veggies, and my toddler clambered up onto my knees so she could have some, too. We're real formal with our table manners around here. She took a handful of food and then lost her balance and started to fall backward. Instead of letting the bowl drop and catching her with my left hand, like I should have, I grabbed her with my right hand, still holding a fork. In fact, I kinda grabbed her with the fork itself. Brilliant reflexes. It left a mark, but didn't break the skin, and she didn't crack her head on the floor either, so I guess it worked out.

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It's the rainy season in central Florida, so we've been visiting McDonalds indoor playland most days instead of the park. One day I made the mistake of going to a brand new McDonalds. Their play apparatus was too advanced for Jane, with lots of long, narrow tunnels, and she was scared to go anywhere near it. Also, there was a big, beefy, mentally disabled boy there who expressed his fondness for Jane by poking her a lot and screaming like a banshee.

When we left the sky looked clear, so I stopped by the county park, too.

A little girl named Kay, about three years old, came right up to Jane and said "aren't you a cute little girl with pigtails?" and tried to carry on a conversation, until she realized that Jane speaks only Babblonian. Lots of older kids get confused because Jane is so tall they assume she must be three or four like them.

She followed Kay around the park for the next half hour, and Kay kept up a nonstop monologue about every thing and person they came across in their travels, including her older sister Elle and little brother Jay.

I shit you not. These people named their kids Jay, Kay, and Elle.

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Last month I learned more about Comet than I ever wanted to know. After scrubbing the tub I left a nearly full can of it on the bathroom counter. Jane managed to get into the bathroom and I found her a bit later with the entire can dumped into her lap and green powder smeared all around her mouth.

Of course, I freaked, but only on the inside, because my outside was busy stripping the baby's clothes off and getting her into the tub, trying to wash her mouth out with a rag. I'm checking her for signs of imminent death, but she's happy as a lark. Then I called the Poison Control Center, where I was told that a baby could eat a hell of a lot of Comet and the worst that would happen would be an upset stomach. Go figure.

The next morning we had a whole nother medical emergency. Jane is now tall enough to reach the cat food on top of the table, and decided to stuff a few pieces up her nose. I laid her down on the bathroom counter, but couldn't see far enough up either nostril. I put her in the bathtub (my default solution for most of her mishaps) and called Nora Charles.

"My baby put some cat food up her nose. How dangerous is that? Should I take her to the ER?"

"Oh my god. You know what I'm thinking about now..."

"Help! I've got spaghetti up my nose! Am I going to die?"

"Yes!"

We had a good laugh.

"I know, but I'm seriously worried."

"Have you tried using a suction bulb?"

"Oh, I didn't even think of that! I've got three of those around here somewhere."

"Does she hate it?"

"No, she thinks it's fascinating. That and having her ears cleaned. Alright I gotta go try this. Thanks!"

The suction bulbs didn't do the trick, she stuffed the pellets too far up, so I called the pediatric nurse to ask if this warranted a trip to the emergency room. She said "No, just bring her in for an appointment. We can get it out with alligator clamps."

After dealing with the nose issue, the doctor showed me an illustration explaining how nasal cavities work. They go from the nose to the throat, so if Jane sniffed hard enough she would just end up snacking on cat food. Retard that I am, I thought the nasal cavities also went up into the brain. For reals. I am dumb.