One a.m. I woke up with a start. My 10-month old was NOT beside me. Panic. Felt like my balls--if I had balls--were stuck in my throat. I scanned the darkness. Saw his tiny silhouette standing at the foot of the bed. He was holding on to a pillow with one hand, for balance. First thought: Phew! Nobody kidnapped him, he’s not lying unconscious, a pool of blood beside him. Next thought: What the hell was he doing, standing at the foot of the bed at one a.m.?! I wanted to scold him, tell him he’s grounded till his first birthday, scream, “What the hell were you thinking you little imp, you?!”
‘Cause it looked to me that he wasn’t just there to practice standing up or to wait for the sun to rise. It looked like he was on to something. Like he was planning to go somewhere. The bathroom? To try out taking a leak the way big daddy does? Next door to wake up his yayas? Oh me, oh my, not the stand fan, please not that! 'Just thinking of his tiny, tiny fingers reaching out for those blades...stop it! Stop!!!
My God. Just 10 months and I'm certified paranoid. Breathe, mommy, breathe.
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