In addition to Brigid's less than compassionate sense of humor, she has this other little personality trait that I'm not entirely fond of.
It turns out, my kid has a little bit of the daredevil flare to her.
And I hate it, even more than I hate the rottenness. Because let's be honest...the rottenness? It's kind of adorable, at least for now. The daredevilness? Not so much. Not now, and not ever.
She never had that moment of fear when she first stood up and realized she needed to get back down again, because she shows no fear. She had no problem standing up. And she had no problem letting go again.
*sob*
She tries to take a header off of the couch with absolutely no warning, every chance she gets. She flees for the stairs the minute she thinks we're not paying attention. She loves when Steve swings her around in circles, throws her up in the air, and carries her around the house on his shoulders. She loves to throw herself backwards when I'm holding her so that she's hanging upside down in my arms.
When she is in the pool with Steve, and Steve decides to dunk her, she holds on to him and takes the dunking like a big girl. No crying. No fussing.
Um, I still cry when I get dunked.
Basically, I'm afraid this is all going to translate into roller coasters, cliff jumping, and motorcycles.
Because that's a legitimate concern when your eleven month old likes to hang upside down, right?
Nobody ever said that motherhood was rational, people.
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