What Was That?

The baby is getting just big enough to ram her head into the corner of every sharp table and counter. There's a wandering shuffle past, then a thump then a howl. I pick her up, she cries, I kiss the boo boo. "You're just big enough to run into everything," I tell her, and she says "yeah," bewildered. Eating her popsicle. Little tears on her face.

I know the feeling, I've been tall enough to run into things for awhile now. The bumps just keep getting bigger and more bewildering. Things are going so well,you're just wandering through your life, and then boom, you're sprawled out on your butt when something RIGHT THERE blindsides you. You're not looking for the bumps, you're too busy eating your popsicle and perhaps humming, on the best of days.

I give her a squeeze and then return her to the floor of her life. What else can we do? There are more bumps, but there are also more popsicles.