We recently bought some new running shoes for our toddler. They’re a deep blue with neon green highlights. He didn’t really take to them at first, but now just look at him go! He zooms all over the place, little legs pumping into a thumping blur. This evolution has taken place without having converged with the development of a nascent sense of fear or self preservation. This kid is not afraid of any bone headed, death defying act of daredevilry (as a side note, I’m surprised that the term daredevilry didn’t tweak the spell checker; I was certain I’d just made that up.)
Tonight, he decided that running off of the front steps towards the lawn would be a good idea. He decided to do this rather spontaneously as both my wife and I were getting ready to go in the front door. We lost control of him for that nanosecond that is needed for a life changing tragedy to take place. Off he went. One, two, three snappy paces then bound! Bounce! Hop! Off the stairs and onto the stone landing he ran. Zip! A short stumble, but his stumpy legs started recovering.
Nope. Not quite.
Two more uneven steps and he launched himself off of the landing and towards the lawn. He sailed head first off of the two foot drop and into our flower bed, our hands outstretched in a vain attempt to catch him. They were ever so close yet so far.
Fwoosh! His trajectory bore him right into a soft, young, and supple hosta. Only his small backside and two feet were seen protruding through the foliage. He rolled himself out as we ran over to him and burst out laughing. Yes, we are that kind of supportive, nurturing parents. He wasn’t certain about what to do for a moment, but then he started laughing and all was good. His head left a deep crater in the young plant.
I’m glad we didn’t rip those hostas out last year to replace them with rose bushes and cacti. Of course, they would probably have fared a little better in their encounter with a rambunctious toddler.