Growing Up

I loved playing with my nephews. Every Sunday I would try and cajole all the parents into letting us play. It was weird because we were always more like cousins than aunts and nephews but that is the way it goes when you have so many kids in one family. I had one particular nephew who no matter what we did always seemed to get hurt in the end. I remember cuts, bruises, crashes, and I couldn't ever figure out how he managed to get hurt each time.

Well now that I have kids of my own I understand a little better. Issac decided to take the place of ruling injury king. At three he has a deformed upper lip, a mangled toe nail, many little scars covering his body, and one to add to his head. Last night we had our home teachers over and they brought their three kids. Well Issac decided to drop his head into the portruding corner of a wall on the corner bead and bust the plaster all up and split his head open too. Bled horribly but actually wasn't that bad. Still trying to get the picture we'll see.

I now know that all these injuries come from living hard. Last night as Travis and I lay in bed I told him how when I think that Issac is only three I am surprised every time. The boy has so much energy and lives so fully that I often assume he is at least seven. His excitement is explosive and injuries have become just a repercussion of each of those explosions. I love to watch him play but the getting hurt part kills me every time.