The front right corner of his bed had become detached, causing the front left corner to fall through. Where was baby? He was 1/2 way in the bed, 1/2 way out. His legs and feet were on the floor, this upper body was in the bed. He was wedged right at his pudgy tummy. And he had a big grin on his face. Of course, my heart stopped. I rescued him, all the while using my best counselor voice and wondering if I might have to resort to some sort of jaws-of-life EMT technique to 'un-wedge' him.I will admit, for about 1 second I considered taking his photo like that just to show you. But considering that my heart had stopped, I decided it was best to get him out of it first. After all, if my heart didn't start back up, I am not even sure the 911 number for Turkey.
I called Campbell Clansman and prepared my speech. "Honey, B broke through his bed. We have only two options. Either we get a professional over here to fix this bed to my satisfaction or you bring home his playpen." Then I heard, "WHAT? He broke through his bed?! Ok, I'll fix it." I replied, calmly, "No rigging. No duct tape. No rope. If I don't feel it is sufficiently fixed, I'm not putting him back in it." (I don't usually get so hossy, but it's my baby....) Then Campbell Clansman (who's been makin' me laugh for 15 years now) said, "Well, I have just one suggestion. Tell him to go on a diet."
So, bless him, he fixed it well. He put reinforcement brackets on all sides, which fixed the problem with the base. Big Ben is happily enjoying his cage bed again.
It's been quite a week. This is a public blog, so I'll have to stop short at that. But it's nice when the problems of this world seem to make me fall through, 1/2 hanging in, 1/2 hanging out, that I have a God who can put reinforcement brackets on all the sides.
3 comments:
One day at SBEC when Kathleen was in the fourth grade she started falling from the top of the stairs. You remember how high those stairs were. She stumbled and staggered all the way down out of control, never regaining her balance until she got to the bottom floor.
All the way down she said felt someone's hand on her back. She thought it was her teacher, Mrs. Mitchell holding her helping her stay balanced so not to fall.
At the bottom she turned and looked behind her and saw Mrs. Mitchell and her whole class still at the top of the stairs frozen with fear. Mrs. Mitchell told her that she was so frightened as she saw Kathleen falling that she could not move.
Kathleen had made the descent down the stairs alone . . .
I believe there was Someone's hand on her back just like the same Someone was watching over Beniah when his crib broke.
It has been quite a week here also. I laughed when you said you were "hossy" with Ross. I think men are used to hossy mothers . . . At least the ones who love us are. Somehow they are always so patient with us when it comes to our children.
I love you Sara. I hope you have a better week next week. I think we all will!
God bless you,
Melanie
Oh Sara . . . I've got to tell you. David was wrestling with the boys when they were somewhere around kindergarten age and they were screaming. I thought he was too rough and I had been standing there watching and scolding when suddenly one of them let out a loud cry. Before I thought . . . I promise it was a gut reaction . . . I grabbed a thick wooden yardstick and whacked him with it hard enough to break the yardstick in half.
Yes, well. He stopped, straightened up and looked at me rubbing his shoulder saying, "Ow, that hurt." I looked at him and said, "Leave my boys alone!"
The hossy rises up before we have a chance to think. :) Wait until Beniah is old enough to rough house with Papa. Just wait. I haven't seen a man yet who didn't do it in some form. Get ready for that one. :)
Love,
Mel
It is certainly interesting for me to read this article. Thanks for it. I like such topics and anything that is connected to this matter. I definitely want to read a bit more on that blog soon.
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