Today I had a morning play date with a baby and mom who we have not spent much time with.  It was at her place, and her baby is younger than the little guy – not crawling yet.  So that meant her place was in no way baby proof.

The little guy was standing using a very low (chest-level for him) coffee table.  He fell to his butt, and in the process he hit his chin.  That made his mouth shut quickly, and in the snap of his jaw, the little tooth that had not broken thru yet was broken thru for him by the other one beneath it.  Crying, lots of crying.  And there was blood too.

The feeling I had when this happened was to immediately comfort and calm him.  He needed me to hold him and tell him it was ok, and to reassure him that it was no big deal – that he was just scared from the “boom” noise.  While I did this, I was pretty calm, and checked him out to see what the injury was exactly.

When I saw the blood in his mouth, that’s when I got scared.  My little boy, the little guy I only want to see smile and laugh, was bleeding.  His mouth had blood in it, and I wanted to make sure he was ok – and I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see it was not a cut or gash, but the product of an extra-hard bite taken as a result of his quick drop to the floor.

It hurts to see the ones you love in pain.  Any kind of pain.  It hurts more than I ever thought to see my son in pain, and it is scary to me to think about the reality that I will see him in pain many more times in the future too.  Physical pain, emotional pain, you name it – helping this little person (who will grow up to be a big person) through those hard times is what you sign up for when you decide to be a parent.  

So this afternoon when I was returning from another playgroup, and he was extra rowdy and I made him laugh when I played with him, I found the laughter I heard extra rich.  I love that laugh, I never want it to go away.