When I was about Ittybit's age, possibly older, I rode my tricycle down our cellar stairs. My mother never let my father forget he was supposed to be watching me when it happend.
"Men don't know anything about watching children," she explained. "They think they are little adults with adult reasoning in tiny bodies. He just assumed you'd stay away from the stairs."
Of course it probably doesn't help my father, who is truly a nurturing soul, to know that EVERYBODY in my life has heard the story.
Oddly enough, it's a story that I sometimes forget.
Recently, when he was taking care of Annabel for the day by himself, he called me at work for advice and I was reminded.
"So we were walking down the stairs to go to the park and she brought both hands to the railing, hauled herself up and swung away from the steps. Then she said: 'Look, Papa. I'm a Monkey!' She did it for each step ... Does she ever do that with you?"
"No, dad, she hasn't yet. Please don't let her ride the tricycle, OK? ... Oh, and dad? You're doing a great job."
3 comments:
That's such an endearing story. I absolutely adore my dad and love it when he watches my kids.
Grandpa's are highly underrated as babysitters, in my opinion.
Just like my family tells me not to move any TVs anymore, after that time the TV fell on me. I think that was a comment I left on your site, telling that story. Or maybe I'm on crack. Yeah, I had a TV fall on me as a kid. I was fine. It's funny now.
That is one of the more memorable comments, actually. I loved that you were so unconcerned you still tried to watch.
Hysterical.
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