I thought I was going to stop writing monthly update posts about Eoin when he turned one, as it would inevitably get somewhat ridiculous by the time you find yourself writing “Eoin is 37¼ months old”, and things of that nature. However, there has been an important development this month, with both fortunate and unfortunate consequences.
Eoin has been desperately trying to walk for the last couple of weeks. There has been a lot of hanging onto pieces of furniture and tottering from room to room, clinging to my hands. This is all rather wonderful, apart from the fact that walking, especially for a very small and wobbly Eoinín, has one inescapable complication. If you’re learning to walk, you are going to fall sooner or later. We’ve had a few bumped heads and banged teeth, but nothing too bad until last night, when Eoin had a fight with a radiator and lost.
There was rather a lot of blood and a very panicky drive to A&E, which was complicated by the fact that neither Stephen nor I really knew where the hospital was, and we got rather lost on the way. Fortunately, Eoin was a trooper: barring the initial shock, he was in great form the whole time, and actually seemed to treat the whole thing as a bit of an adventure. He got to stay up late, he had extra snacks, all these nice doctors made a huge fuss of him… What was a little bang on the head, when there was so much excitement going on?
Here he is, all patched up, and enjoying his Anifeiliaid Fferm picture book, which has a very cheering fluffy sheep on the front of it.
Stephen is trying to reconcile me to the whole business by pointing out that Eoin might have a cool Harry Potter scar with which to impress his friends at school in years to come. I just wish he could manage to get his head around the whole “staying upright” thing.
Happy thirteen months, little sausage: you’ve been a little bit unlucky this time, but I’m sure it’s all going to get better from here on.