Toddler: Or (A Parent's Terror of Fearlessness)

Toddlers have no idea that they are mortal. They don't understand that danger is lurking around every sharp corner. In fact, they seem to seek out danger. If my toddler had access to a handful of arsenic and a cupful of bleach, I'm sure she would ingest it all and then look for some butcher's knives to juggle.

So, it's a sincere understatement to say that I was on the verge of a panic attack the entirety of the trip my toddler, kindergartener, and I took to the playground the other day. My kindergartener is relatively cautious and has had 6 years to learn her limits. My toddler, however, attempted to climb everything (especially the steep and/or slippery things), insisted on getting dangerously close to every edge she could have fallen from, licked or bit as many surfaces as possible, and couldn't have cared less when one or both of her shoes fell off. She has also gotten surprisingly fast in the past couple months, which means it only took the three seconds I was watching my kindergartener carefully walk across the balance beam for my toddler to be well out of arm's reach and performing one death-defying feat or another.

In all the time my toddler could have broken a limb or knocked out a tooth without my assistance, she somehow avoided disaster. Then, after watching me spin her big sister on one of the playground toys (you know the ones you stand on and use your own weight to spin around?), she wanted a turn. She knelt on the metal bar and held on to the sides. She honestly seemed sturdy, so I thought, why not slowly push her around a few times? I'm right here, what could possibly happen?

I'll tell you what could possibly happen. She could shift her weight, causing her knees to slip backward and her mouth to hit the bar with terrifying impact. She could let out blood-curdling screams into my shoulder, and when I pull her away to get a better look, her face could be covered in blood. And when I check her mouth, one of her top teeth could have gone missing. And because I'm already on the brink of a panic attack, I could go into full-blown panic-mode and scare her sister half-to-death by screaming, "We have to leave right now! We have to go to the hospital!" Then I could call my husband in hysterics and hope that he somehow understands what happened even though I can't form words properly.

He did understand. He rescued us on our way home from the playground (though I still had to power-walk the wagon home with horrific thoughts rushing through my head while he gave the kids a ride). Then he helped me gather my wits and what we needed for a trip to the emergency room.  

A few hours later, my toddler was laughing heartily in her hospital bed.

We learned that her tooth was not knocked out after all, but only pushed up into her gum, which means it should come back down over time, and I will not have a missing-toothed child for the next four years.

She learned nothing. She tried to climb down from her hospital bed by herself, which nearly resulted in another disaster. And today, after I cut up her tomatoes and set the knife where I thought it was well out of her reach, she somehow managed to grab the knife and hold it precariously above her head for a couple terrifying seconds. 

What I'm saying is, I may need to have my anxiety medication upped if I'm going to survive the next couple years.