I’m old. Well, I’m not that old, but I’ve forgotten about being a child. I’ve forgotten about being a kid and having fun. I’ve forgotten about the repercussions of trying new things and being frequently physically active. I’ve spent the last five years either on a stage (acting), in the house (directing, dramaturg-ing, etc.), or behind a book or computer screen learning and doing research. My life has revolved, largely, around sitting in a chair. As I spend more and more time with my son I spend less and less time in the chair (or, perhaps, I just spend the time in the chair more wisely). At any rate, I’d forgotten the necessity of bandages for scrapes and cuts. My only injuries have been wrist related due to typing.
It came as a shock, then, when our son dumped water out on the tile floor and banged up his chin after deciding to walk/slip through it. He earned a nice little red spot on his cute little chin with that maneuver. A little while back he decided to climb up on top of “technology corner” in our home and pulled a hard drive on top of his head. Another bump to be proud of. He’s currently learning to jump. He’s been running into walls and fences in the backyard. He’s fallen on uneven ground at the parks we frequent. He’s experimenting and occasionally injuring himself (though not seriously).
I think about how my life will change as he gets older. The activities we’ll do together. How he’ll get Dad on a bike or convince me to climb something I shouldn’t or run a little too fast when it’s a little too wet and I’m a little too tired. What injuries will I suffer then? I’m wagering on minor ones. I’m also betting that the injuries will be worth it. Bring it on, son!