When I was pregnant with Hunter, everyone told me how different my little boy and girl would be. Sure they would be different. Different personalities, different sense of humor, different interests; but they’re still both little kids. They cry, they make messes, they learn to walk…right? No! Boys and girls are so different, at least my two little ones are.

Although we had a rough start when Hallie was born, she was a relatively easy toddler. She didn’t get into cabinets. She didn’t climb out of her crib. She didn’t color on the wall. She got into the plant dirt one time and after the time-out, she never touched it again!

Hunter, however, is another story. First and foremost, the kid likes to climb. He has been sitting on the bar stool at the bar since before he could walk. He would just climb up there whenever he pleased. He likes to stack large cars on books on stools and then stand on top of all of it.

He jumps. He jumps off stairs. Jumps into pillows. Jumps off couches. He’s an animal. So it should come as no surprise; he gets hurt all the time. We’ve already taken him to the emergency for a large gash from his teeth. His nose bleeds, his mouth bleeds, he scrapes his head, he cuts his leg. The list could go on and on. At this point I’m seriously considering a helmet. Really. I talked to the pediatrician about it and the only down side is they’re very expensive and they have to be replaced regularly as his head grows. (we’ve tried the bicycle helmet and we just can’t get it tight enough!) So since our preventative measures are difficult, we are really left with damage control.

One Sunday morning, I was on the phone with a friend when I hear a large thud and screaming. I rush to the kitchen to find this…
He had been sitting/climbing on the stool when he fell off and hit his nose. There was a lot of blood and I couldn’t get it to stop. Of course Steve was at meetings (he never seems to be there when the action starts) and Hallie was freaking out over the amount of blood rushing from his nose.
“Mom, it’s still coming out.”
“I know.”
“He got some on the floor”
“I know”
“Oh Hunter (in her best little mommy voice) you got blood all over your shirt, you shouldn’t do that.”

She’s right. He shouldn’t do that. People keep telling me eventually he’ll learn. Eventually? After how many broken body parts?  I can’t take the sight of rushing blood many more times, and he’s only one. And sadly, I don’t think we’ve seen the worst of it…