The Blog I Never Use

I am so happy to be here, uninjured and relatively safe after Valentine's Day. You see, the 13th, 14th, and 15th of Feb have often been very bad days for me. For instance, I decided to jump into bed on Valentines Day when I was 6 (I think). I had jumped into bed before but, this time, I made the nearly fatal, obviously dangerous error of turning the lights out first. Out with the lights, two quick steps, a dive and . . . the metal support that belonged under my matress, under my eye. That was my first set of stitches. Yeah, good times, good times.

And falling off a cliff . . . the 15th. Yeah, Gina actually listed a lot more a few years ago when she advised me to: "Hide in a safe place, with good ventalation, wearing a helmet, with a lot of pillows taped to you with duct tape, and avoid sharp objects until the 16th."

. . . and I don't think that she was joking.

I love Tank. He is so perfectly wonderful and sweet and he only cries for a few minutes at a time (and then his mom gets him if he doesn't stop). He looks up at me with his deep blue eyes that don't see very well yet, and gives a wonderfully accurate Pop-eye impression (I supply the laugh).

I must admit, though, I don't know anything as terrifying as an infant. He's so small and fragile, what if someone trips while carrying him, what if he throws himself off the changing table, what if . . . well, what if anything happens to hurt him? I don't think I could bear it if he was seriously hurt or in danger.

You see, I have a lot of perfectly valid reasons to believe in my own ability to survive, but this little guy doesn't have that kind of cred. I can count on my physical strength to save me, and on my intelligence, but all he has is mommy and daddy and any of the rest of us who might be present during a given moment . . . and that terrifies me more than anything that could happen to me.

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