skinned-knees and scabs.
I want him to learn to be independent.
To be able to do things for himself.
But sometimes he trips and stumbles.
A bloody knee. A few fat tears. A kiss and hug. A band aid.
And he's back to running again.
(unfortunately, I won't be able to fix all of life's skinned-knees so easily for him.)
My baby got his first skinned-knee. Courtesy of a little enthusiastic running on some cobblestone. I should probably be glad it's taken him so long. (Most likely thanks to the combination of snow and long pants that ND necessitates.) I'm certain it's the first of many more. He is quite a boy. He has one speed- pedal to the metal. And I love that energy! And for now, a little attention from mama, and he's good to go. But I know someday, my hug and kiss won't be enough. He's going to face so many scrapes that he will have to navigate on his own.
But for now, he's little. I'm gonna hug him, and kiss him, and cuddle those tears away. And
enjoy that I am all he needs. And pretend that will never change.