Now that I'm a mom (yep, still weird), I figured that the way I look at things would change. Example: After my college roomie Lauren had her first kid, she told me she has such a different experience watching Law & Order: SVU. Well, while I was in Amsterdam last week, I had my first real "mom" moment.
Dave and I were at a pub/cafe for lunch, seated near some stairs that led down to the kitchen. Some very steep stairs. I actually commented on how they looked "treacherous."
Enter Hippie Dutch Family. With their big hiking backpacks and loose-fitting clothes, the family of three walked by our table toward their own. The child was probably 2. As Mom and Dad got settled with their stuff, the little boy bounced around the tiny restaurant. Bounced around his chair, bounced past our table, bounced toward the stairs...
And bounced RIGHT down them. Total crash. I think time stopped. I know my heart did.
He had ended up jumping without paying attention to his feet and flew over the first few steps before tumbling down the stairs. Thank god he was okay -- he stopped before hitting his head on the cement leading into the kitchen -- but he was obviously terrified. And so was I.
His dad rushed to him and scooped him up. Everyone was shaken, but I was shaking. I realized my hands had been covering my mouth, frozen, for the first few minutes after the incident. My heart was pounding. My eyes got watery. All I could think was, what if that had been my daughter?
The effects of the trauma lasted longer for me than the boy. Within 15 minutes, he was quietly playing with a toy in his mother's arms. I couldn't get the falling image out of my mind.
It's weird how things shift when you have a tiny person in your life. Before Ava, I would have rebounded from that experience without much thought. Yet, here I am, several days later, still unable to forget what happened.
Only solution I see is to load up on bubble wrap and cocoon my kid until she's 30. Don't test me. I might just be that crazy.
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