This morning, like most mornings, I was woken up by Jack's cry. But unlike most mornings, this wasn't a little waking up mewl... it was a full-on howl. And sounded like it was coming from the vicinity of under the bed. I groggily rolled over and saw his empty basket, then quickly realized why it sounded like that. Because it
was like that. "Alex, we have a bit of a problem", I said. Then in a much calmer state than I probably should have been, I fished him off the floor, cuddled his terrified little bod and stroked his little face, which bore the deep imprint of carpet, bits of stuff I missed while vacuuming yesterday and one very puffy eye. It was terrifying in a way... but weirdly soothing, because despite the shock, I knew he was ok. I did end up taking him to the doc's by the end of day just to be sure, but there is something immensely comforting in the deep-down knowledge that I understand and know this awesome little baby enough to be able to gauge whether he's alright or not without any panic bells setting off to cloud my judgement. He got the all-clear from my rather awesome doctor who assured me that at this age, they really just bounce. And the only thing I needed to give him was an extra round of cuddles... and maybe some pillows around his bed to keep my little escape artist safe, should he try it again.
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