Growing up, one of our favorite things was to take all the cushions off the sofa and make forts. I suppose Mom looked at it as a way for us to learn physics and balance and building things. Well, either that, or it was a wonderful, safe way to keep us occupied and relatively contained. For the most part, this worked, other than the one time that I built the fort a little too close to the fireplace, and the roaring fire contained therein, and my fort caught on fire. It was quickly contained, but I know it crushed her that her mustard yellow, puke green, and brown plaid cushions got ruined. Would we ever find another sofa to go with the brown and burgundy braided rug? (Disclaimer - At least that's what I think the rug was, but my memory may be clouded by all the fine decorating tips employed in the 70's. Sorry, Mom.)
Amazingly, when he woke up, he was not black and blue. He drank his milk, ate his breakfast, and was even able to brush his teeth. We were floored. Needless to say, we didn't make a trip to see Pops. What a wonderful thing to be so young and so quick to heal. This was, by far, the worst injury Reeves has ever had. I'm so thankful it wasn't as bad as we thought it was. Coincidently, he has his first dentist appointment tomorrow.
Fast forward a few decades. 
Now, my own son loves building forts just like I did. And since we don't have a fireplace, what harm could there possibly be? Unfortunately, unlike my precise placement of the cushions and pillows forming secret rooms, his construction mainly involves throwing every soft object in the house into a pile, creating more of a landing pad than a fort. Occasionally he will burrow deep into the pile to "hide", but for the most part, he just likes to run and jump onto them. This is exactly what he was doing Saturday night - for almost two hours. We didn't stop him because the joy was so evident on his face and in his howling laughter that all we could do was join in the fun. Bryant even tossed him onto the pile a few times. However, like all good things, the time eventually came for this merriment to end. With bedtime rapidly approaching, Reeves was given two more minutes to play. He accepted his fate and went about having as much fun in those last two minutes as possible. And then it happened. His last dive into the pile was met not with a cushiony landing but with the hard edge of the sofa. 
He had busted his mouth. His scream was frightening. I fully expected to pick him up and find a tooth beneath him. He bled and bled. Luckily, all his parts seemed to be in order, and he calmed down realtively quickly. After sufficient snuggling and tender care, we were able to elicit a smile. Perfect. We loaded him up with Motrin and put him in bed. I called Mom and told her that I would be bringing him by in the morning to let his dentist grandfather check him out.
Now, my own son loves building forts just like I did. And since we don't have a fireplace, what harm could there possibly be? Unfortunately, unlike my precise placement of the cushions and pillows forming secret rooms, his construction mainly involves throwing every soft object in the house into a pile, creating more of a landing pad than a fort. Occasionally he will burrow deep into the pile to "hide", but for the most part, he just likes to run and jump onto them. This is exactly what he was doing Saturday night - for almost two hours. We didn't stop him because the joy was so evident on his face and in his howling laughter that all we could do was join in the fun. Bryant even tossed him onto the pile a few times. However, like all good things, the time eventually came for this merriment to end. With bedtime rapidly approaching, Reeves was given two more minutes to play. He accepted his fate and went about having as much fun in those last two minutes as possible. And then it happened. His last dive into the pile was met not with a cushiony landing but with the hard edge of the sofa. He had busted his mouth. His scream was frightening. I fully expected to pick him up and find a tooth beneath him. He bled and bled. Luckily, all his parts seemed to be in order, and he calmed down realtively quickly. After sufficient snuggling and tender care, we were able to elicit a smile. Perfect. We loaded him up with Motrin and put him in bed. I called Mom and told her that I would be bringing him by in the morning to let his dentist grandfather check him out.Amazingly, when he woke up, he was not black and blue. He drank his milk, ate his breakfast, and was even able to brush his teeth. We were floored. Needless to say, we didn't make a trip to see Pops. What a wonderful thing to be so young and so quick to heal. This was, by far, the worst injury Reeves has ever had. I'm so thankful it wasn't as bad as we thought it was. Coincidently, he has his first dentist appointment tomorrow.
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