Danger Mouse

I had my first big save today, and I will have the bruises to show for it!

There is a big white door in the playroom that leads to Milo’s group quarters. I call it the “danger door” because immediately on the other side of it is a 4-step concrete staircase, then a small landing and then a long concrete staircase. It is very hazardous.

When Frank was here we would sometimes keep this door open to help with a cross breeze, which kept us from roasting in the playroom. Milo rarely went toward the door, but just in case we would always position ourselves to make sure he didn’t get there before one of us could.

Since Frank left, I now keep the danger door closed because it’s harder to stay one step ahead of Milo without Frank here to tag team with me.

Well, today a caregiver left the door open when she walked through the playroom, and I didn’t notice. Milo and I were rolling around together on the floor, and he stood up and headed straight for what I quickly realized was the open door. My brain instantly calculated the physics and I determined that no matter how superhumanly fast I got up, I would probably not make it to him in time. He was barreling ahead at full speed, and certain to suffer a very big, injurious plunge down the hard steps – probably actually flying over the steps and crashing onto the landing, and then potentially rolling down the bigger staircase. It was not going to be pretty. My heart sank.

I summoned all of my superpowers and somehow got from lying completely horizontal to a runner’s starting position in less than a millisecond. I bellowed out “Nyet!” but Milo kept pattering toward the door at full speed. He was about 6 inches away from it. Then I pushed off with one foot, hurtling my body forward as hard and I could, and barely got my other foot under me in time to stumble my way closer to my giggling little imp who was one mere inch from disaster. I dove toward him as if sliding into home plate, and landed on my right side with my right arm outstretched. My ear and cheek smacked on the floor, but my hip and shoulder took the brunt of it. I curled my right forearm around Milo’s waist just as he set foot on the threshold and I swept him backward and away from a certain nosedive. He squealed with delight, having no inkling about what had just almost happened, and took off running in the other direction. I just sat there for a minute, stunned that I actually caught him. I closed the door and did a quick self-check, concluding that I would be sore, but ok.

I walked over and sat in a chair next to Milo, who was playing on the floor. I saw him put something in his mouth. I immediately picked him up and pried it open while saying “Di Mama” (Give to mama.) I thought I saw what looked like my earring. I felt my earlobes, and sure enough one dangly was missing from the French hook that was still in place. Milo didn’t protest too much as I pried it out from between his wide grin. I indeed pulled out my earring, which had apparently broken off while we were roughhousing on the floor earlier. So much for my ear décor. I’m looking more like a new mommy every day. Smeared, melted, hair up tight and completely decoration-free!

Oh, and if all that wasn’t enough for one day…

When I chase Milo I usually kiss him when I catch him, but occasionally I pretend I’m going to gobble him up. He started doing the same thing to me this week, and acting as if he was going to eat my leg/arm/hand/foot etc. I realized in hindsight that this was probably not a good thing because there would surely come a day when he really bit me. Today was the day! He actually bit me on my jaw while I was holding him. It wasn’t super hard, but I felt it. He was being silly, not angry, but I sternly said “Nyet! Jock! Boll mite!” (No! Don’t do that!) and immediately put him down and stepped back from him with the most serious look I could give.

In fact, the whole morning visit, he was in rare form. He was in a really good mood, but in a bad way! He was rambunctious and all around mischievous. Our little gremlin wanted to scamper and climb all over the place and touch all the things he knows he isn’t supposed to touch. I had to get very stern with him, and I finally just decided to pick him up and hold him close while walking slowly around the room. Every time he wanted to get down I wouldn’t let him. He would relax for a few minutes and then want down again, which would make me hold him even closer. I sang a bit of You Can’t Always Get What You Want, as more of a reassurance to myself than him. ;-) Finally when he was fully relaxed and calm, I put him down when I was ready. He behaved better after that, but between the general naughtiness and “the big save” I came home from the visit in a tizzy.

Our afternoon visit was much better. I think he was even a little mad at me for scolding him because he didn’t run into my arms as usual. He did smile when he saw me, but then stopped and squatted down to pick at the floor and waited for me to come pick him up. He was still energetic, but minded me better.

I know this is all normal, and he is beginning to test his newfound boundaries. I feel that although our relationship is still new and fragile, it is solid enough that I can discipline him without worrying about damaging it. Now is when it’s important to establish rules, and the consequences of breaking them, and to make clear who is the parent and who is the child. It would be a little easier if I spoke his language fluently, but I will do the best I can! I refuse to allow him to become spoiled, and it is certainly interesting to begin walking the delicate balance between showing him unconditional love, and helping him to become a fine young man. Or at least a fine young cannibal!