Henry As Door Stopper

The family home of my youth features some sloped ceilings. In my bedroom, and in the hallway outside my room and my sister's room, tall people can inflict serious damage on themselves if they are not mindful. And as mindfulness is not a personal forte, inflict I did. You hear it before you feel it, then it starts to hurt and if it's a bad one you hear some ringing. Then you say 'fuck me'. Then you go to school, probably mildly concussed.

I do sometimes reflect on what I might have accomplished with my life if I hadn't killed a bushel of brain cells every other morning for years and years. I don't think I found Chris Elliott hilarious until I was tall enough to crack my head on that ceiling, so that tells you something right there.

Wanting my son to have every opportunity, I do endeavor to protect his noggin as much as possible. Especially now, you know, when he's got that baby soft skull thing going on. From friends who have kids, and from the interwebz, I've heard some scary stories of dropped babies, vicious falls, etc. And while I know bumps and bruises (and mild concussions) are ultimately inevitable, so far we've been pretty lucky.

I had my first incident a couple days ago. Henry and I were out shopping for our old ladies. I had him strapped to the front of me in the new fancy carrier that I don't really like (I still prefer the Baby Bjorn). I had bags in both my hands, and we were leaving the mall. Somebody half held the door for me, but not really, so we weren't going to make it through. As my hands were full, I instinctually turned my shoulder into the closing door. If I hadn't lost all those brain cells back in the day I likely would not have made this mistake, but in my diminished state it didn't dawn on me that what would hit the door first was Henry's tender head.

I'm not sure if it's the most sickening sound I've heard in my life, but it's gotta be Top Three. I felt nauseous, literally. But the boy, tough as nails, barely stirred. And reconstructing it I think my shoulder hit at the same time, so not all the pressure of the door was on him. But still. It sucked.

Not entirely unrelated, one bad thing about winter is I strap the son onto my front and then my big winter jacket goes all the way around him and gets zipped up over his head. So instead of people seeing that I'm carrying this impossibly cute little guy, it just looks like I've got a massive and extremely odd-shaped stomach. It's simply terrible for meeting chicks.