The boys fall a lot. They fall when they run and skin their knee. “You’re OK. Brush, brush”, we say as we teach them to wipe the dirt off their own hands. They fall off the play structures, some more insidious than others. “You’re OK”, we say to encourage confidence even as our own hearts skip a beat. Tam fell and rolled into a creek, giving himself a pretty good scraping. Faceplants into parking lots bruise noses. Heads bonk hard as brother trips over brother. Falling, scraping, bruising and bouncing are part of our educational routine.
The other day Tai fell from the top of his dresser. He’s not supposed to be on top of his dresser. Daddy told him so a thousand times. Daddy hoisted him down from the dresser a thousand times. Daddy yanked him down unceremoniously hard a few times. Daddy scolded … “That’s a no-no!!” Daddy explained … “You could get hurt if you fall.” Daddy moved the bed, which served as climbing base camp, further from the dresser. Daddy tied the drawers shut with rope to eliminate the scary north facing route. Daddy did everything but grease the sides and put shards of glass on top, and for a moment considered even those. But all of this served only to make the irresistible climb to the dresser’s summit more difficult and more hazardous so that, the other day, Tai fell from the dresser.
A few weeks prior to Tai’s fall from grace off the dresser, Tam took what in rock climbing would be known as a whipper. Tam took a nose dive off the banister to plummet 12 feet to the base of the staircase. Mommy was cooking and glanced away for an instant. Daddy was bathing Nhan near the bottom of the stairs. Thud!! Daddy looks around to see Tam’s body roll the last few steps to the floor. Terrible thoughts race through Daddy’s imagination as Daddy races the few feet to the now hyperventilating-crying-fear-gripped little boy while naked Nhan drips water all over everything.
Daddy’s first words were “Don’t freak out”, ostensibly spoken to the rapidly approaching Mommy because Daddy didn’t think he could keep it together if Mommy lost it, but he was probably talking to himself. What to do? Pick him up? Keep him still? Take him to emergency? Daddy can’t think beyond holding Tam still so his spine doesn’t move. Mommy gets the phone and we dial 911. Daddy is filled with love, compassion, concern and is deeply moved by the genuine suffering and courage of such a small lad having taken such a huge fall.
Within minutes the sirens are wailing. “Dey! Dey!”. That’s toddler Vietnamese for “Truck! Truck!” The other two boys who aren’t paralyzed with fear and shock are excited by the sound of fire trucks. The thought passes through Daddy’s head … too bad we can’t take them out to see the fire engines. A dozen firemen, paramedics and a sheriff’s deputy pour into the house and down the stairs. That’s way too many strangers for Tam, who, after just beginning to settle down, freaks out again. More crying and wailing and, a great relief to Mommy & Daddy, a lot of squirming as evidence of a healthy spine.
The nice paramedic asks Daddy to carefully take Tam upstairs. We tell the story. “Hi little boy …” says the paramedic, keying on the alertness of Tam’s eyes. Any loss of consciousness? No. How did he land? Shoulder, I think; there’s a small bruise. Is his behavior currently normal? Relative to his tumble of terror and shyness around the invasion of strangers, yes. We wait. We talk. After about 45 minutes Tam starts to giggle. He runs into Mommy’s arms. He smiles. The paramedic is satisfied. Mommy and Daddy are satisfied. And fortunately, the sheriff’s deputy is satisfied as well. It is mandatory for the sheriff to show up at any 911 call involving an infant to check for child abuse. Oh.
Daddy spent most of that night building balsa wood mock-ups for how to secure the stairwell. He spent $400 and all the next day building a two foot high, wood frame and polycarbonate extension to the banister. The shelves which provided access to the banister were removed. Making a house triplet resistant knows no end.
How does a toddler launch himself off a banister? Daddy would have thought a million years of evolution would have built in more sense of self preservation. Just how did the toddlers of Mesa Verde survive? Daddy never thought to tell the boys, “Hey, stay away from this deadly 12 foot precipice”. However Daddy did tell them to stay off the dressers. Daddy told them a thousand times. Daddy did everything he could think of to prevent that fall from the dresser.
In spite of Daddy’s efforts … thud!! Tai tumbles from the dresser. Daddy hears the hyperventilation cry. Daddy opens the door to the boys’ room. Tai is on the floor crying. Nhan and Tam are gently stroking Tai, patting him and providing comfort. That was cute. Daddy’s response was different. Daddy was loaded with (a) I told you so and (b) Hell, after the banister, this is nothing. “You’ll be fine. Stay off the dresser.” That was about the extent of Daddy’s comforting. Apparently it wasn’t enough because Tai plots his revenge.
About an hour later the boys were upstairs. All seemed calm. Daddy was unsuspecting. Tam pooped. The poop stunk. Daddy smelled the stink, picked up the pooper and carried him downstairs for a diaper changing. Daddy’s nose has grown keen over the last few months and there’s very little time lag between the pooping and the changing. It’s quick. Diaper changing is quick, too. Boy on mat. Pants down. Diaper in the can. Wipey wipey all around and slap on the clean diaper. No time at all, minutes at most.
Crack!! What was that sound!?!? Daddy’s ears have grown keen as well. He knows all the sounds of mischief. The toy car rattling across the furniture. Forbidden ascents of the toddler gate. The tearing of book pages. Forbidden light switches. Clanking of the shelves. Even the puffy-soft landing of tossed plush doggies creates the audible signature of a household no-no. Daddy knows them all but he doesn’t know this one. How bad could it be? Daddy’s only been down here a minute. Squeals of delight. Uh oh.
The diaper’s done. Daddy goes upstairs. What’s that … something large and black and deformed in the shared hands of Tai and Nhan. Scanning the room.
When Daddy was single he started working for an internet consulting company at the height of the boom time. After 20 years of renting single rooms in shared housing, he bought this house. Daddy moved in with no bed, no furniture, and no kitchen supplies to speak of. He owned camping gear and books. What’s the absolute first thing Daddy bought for his bare, sterile house? A stereo and TV, of course. Daddy was a guy. A big stereo with enormous, four foot tall, expensive, high quality speakers from Lexington, Kentucky. Fifteen years later Daddy is still terribly proud of those speakers. He even put a layer of thick cardboard underneath the grill to protect the speakers from prodding fingers.
But he never thought of protecting the grill itself.
Crack! In the few minutes it took to change Tam’s diaper, Tai and Nhan organized a raid on the speaker grill and smashed it, dragging it’s spent, unrecognizable carcass around the living room. Oh, Daddy got angry. Daddy yells. Daddy put the culprits in timeout. Daddy gets so angry he smashes what remains of the grill to bits. Whoops. More crying. By this time Mommy has arrived. Now Mommy’s upset as well. Mommy’s angry at the boys for making Daddy upset. Mommy’s upset with Daddy for ramping up the destruction. Mommy’s upset ramps up Daddy’s upset until it’s an upset-fest.
And then it’s over.
Perspective returns … after all, it’s just a speaker grill, even if it is a $180 speaker grill. Daddy reassures Mommy. Mommy comforts Daddy. Mommy and Daddy console the culprits. Daddy puts pants on Tam. Calm returns. Mommy and Daddy are slowly learning to put love before anger. Things are getting better like people said they would. Slowly.
And the boys? One would think big falls would be fast teachers. One would think. The morning after Tam’s whipper he worked hard to find an alternate route to the banister. Tai still surmounts his dresser summit nightly. Headfirst falls over the kitchen toddler gate, no matter how loud the crying is in the moment, do nothing to deter dangerously precarious perches along the ridgeline. Watching Mommy cook is just too fun to do from the ground.
They’re not supposed to be on top of the gate. Mommy told them so a thousand times. Mommy hoisted them down from the gate a thousand times. Mommy yanked them down unceremoniously hard a few times. Mommy scolded … “That’s a no-no!!” Mommy explained … “You could get hurt if you fall.”
Thud!!
