Every time I look at his little face, I want to cry!
I try so hard not to be over-protective. I resist the urge to
constantly hover around him, even though every ounce of my being wants to keep
him in a bubble where he’ll never get sick or hurt.
I practice letting go because I know I have to. It’s what’s best for him. But it seems
like every time I let go a little, he gets hurt.
I let him go down the slide by himself at a new park last
week. He went down faster than I expected him to, and he got hurt.
I let him run a little ahead of me at Happy Hollow yesterday, and he fell face first onto the
cement and got this fat lip.
Both times, there was blood. Both times, I held it together while
I dabbed the blood away from Q’s mouth and held him close. Both times, I fell
apart in the car and cried on the way home.
I know bumps, bruises, scrapes and fat lips are part of
childhood – possibly even signs of a fun, adventurous childhood.
I just hope my heart – and Quinn’s face – can take it.
