Audrey is very good at feeding herself now. But not so good at chewing before she swallows. And a few times...she's choked on her food. Occasionally she gets going too fast and takes too many bites at once and chokes. All the baby books warn about it, tell you what to do when it happens, not if it happens. Kids put things in their mouth and choke. Kids get hurt. It's a fact of life.

Just don't tell that to my husband.

Any time Audrey gets hurt, he panics. It's not pretty. The last time Audrey choked I patted her back, watched her closely, tried to keep her calm so she could swallow. Justin? Well, just picture him running around in the background with his hands in the air yelling like a crazy person. The other night when she was running in the dining room and slipped on the wood floor and hit her head he launched into a tirade about how we should have been watching her more closely. Even though we were both less than 5 feet away from her and we were watching her closely.

The fact that Justin is the parent who's freaking out about these small accidents surprises me a little. After all, I'm the one who was so nervous that we couldn't leave her with anyone else for over a year. I'm the one who marvels at everything she does and gushes on and on about her to anyone that will listen. Justin's never been the mushy-gushy, emotional type. But something about this little girl of ours has brought out the protector in him. When he gets so worried it just makes me smile (which does not make him happy) because it shows how much he loves her and wants to keep her safe.

I tell him, "it's going to happen", "kids get hurt", "she's exploring and testing boundaries, it's how she learns". And he says, "but she shouldn't get hurt" "it doesn't have to happen like that, we can prevent it". And to some extent, he's right. We are her parents and guardians and it's our job to prevent her from being hurt whenever we can. Most of the time I'm there to take the scissors or the permanent marker out of her hand, or to set her on the floor after she's climbed onto the dining room table, or to stop her from shoveling too much food into her mouth. But I am not all-seeing and all-knowing and I will not be able to protect her all of the time.

I know this because I was once a kid myself. I grabbed hot wire fences just to see what it felt like, fell off the back of my friend's bike and scraped my knees, and slammed my finger in a door so hard it tore off my nail and required stitches. I even drove a car into the side of my Grandpa's barn (but that's a story for another day). Justin, with his wild youth, should know about childhood scrapes and bruises better than anyone. I've heard countless stories about broken limbs and sports injuries and lawn darts. Even one that makes me shudder about shooting an arrow up into the air and running for cover.

It happens. It's part of growing up. And this tough, protective, new father is working on relaxing a little bit.


But I just know he's not going to take it well when she's older and some boy breaks her heart.


Good thing he doesn't own a gun.