I grew up in a family that bragged about cuts, scrapes, and broken bones. My mom and I have been in a friendly competition for decades. I take pictures of my newest injury and send them to her and she calls to tell me she's had worse scratches in her eyeball.
Chad, on the other hand, grew up as an only child. I'm pretty sure his ouchies were treated with more parental decorum.
This diametric is evident in our household. When the kids get hurt, Chad is quick to console and give kisses to boo-boos. I am grabbing the camera and yelling, "That was AWESOME!" There are many a dirty look thrown my direction from Chad. And many an eye-roll from me. It works, though. Chad soothes and cuddles while I make light so as not to scare.
The first birthday brings us to an interesting crossroads. In my family, there is a tradition (a twisted rite-of-passage thing) to let the baby reach for the birthday candle's flame. You may be getting some insight to why my mom is called "Scary Mom." And we'll just call Dad "Camera Co-Conspirator."
Chad and I have come to a compromise (after a rather nasty disagreement caused by Stone's charred little baby finger). I lay in wait for the shot and RIGHT as the the baby gets to the flame, he blows it out. This year was the last year to get it right. And boy, did we!
I'm proud to say no babies were injured in the making of this blog posting. There were, however, heavy cupcake casualties...
1 comment:
Almost all of this is true even in Dori's exaggerated tale-telling.
However, I must defend myself in the first birthday cake finger burning. First, Derrick, her brother, didn't reach for the flame on his 1st birthday. Second, Dori did before anyone could react. Dad was taking pictures with a fast button camera so he was still capturing the event and I was standing next to her but, unfortunately, not fast enough. And so the story and "tradition" goes. Plus, the pictures are really funny! This would be the beginning of our large, long and fun adventure with Dori.
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