Precious moments with my lil' Princess
Woke up to the sound of crashing furniture this morning; immediately followed by the sound of my daughter crying and my wife calling out my name for help.
Without even so much as grabbing my glasses, I ran into my son's room where I found his dresser drawers over turned and my daughter standing about three feet in front of them with tears streaming down her face.
She hadn't been hurt, when the dresser came crashing down from having her weight unbalancing it because she was standing inside of a drawer while attempting to climb her way to the top. I wasn't mad (although barely able to focus my eyes after having been startled awake so quickly), but just thankful that she was ok. After taking it all in, and making sure that everyone was fine, I became agitate; but only at myself for not having fastened the dresser and the shelving unit down after painting and rearranging Jack's room. This was the third time that the dresser had been pulled down, and I decided that it would be the last.
While downing a can of Mt. Dew, it only took about 15 minutes to do what I should have done months earlier. The dresser is fastened to the wall with the assistance of a dry wall anchor, and the shelving unit (which I would think would be more of a temptation to my children for climbing, but isn't) is fastened through the wall and directly into s stud. Neither strap will hold the full weight of a determined child who would hang on to a falling book case, but it will hold the furniture up long enough for them to realize that they are pulling it down and need to get away from it before it fully tips over or before the strap snaps out of either the wall or the furniture itself.
After the incident, Delaney decided that she wanted to be glued to her Daddy's arms and chest. She wouldn't let me put her down for the longest time. I know that there will come a time when my little girl no longer will run straight for Daddy's arms when thigs are tough, so I soaked in every moment and locked it into my memory. It will be moments like this that I will hold onto when my little girl is 12 or 13 and telling me that she hates me because I woun't let her do something or another, or when she is telling me that I'm embarrasing her in front of her friends. Those moments will break my heart, but I will always remember when my little princess wanted nothing more in the world than to be held by her Daddy.
I had a moment like this very early this morning, at around 4:30 AM. I awoke to hear one of the kids in the bathroom, and the sound of a little girl's voice daying "daddy help. daddy help." I found her trying to get up onto the toilet seat, and she couldn't get her step stool into position to climb up on the seat. I asked her what she was doing, and she looked at me with eyes barely open and said, "I poop." I said, you need to poop? She replaied, "yeah daddy. I poop." I pulled her diaper off of her (it was full of pee), and lifted her up onto the potty after putting her training seat on the seat. She grunted and groaned, made a bunch of faces, and finally tinkled. She finally looked at me and said "I can't Poooop, Daddy." I told her, "let's go put on a new diaper, and I'll get you a drink." She crawled up into my arms and put her head down onto my shoulder. She was settling in to go to sleep on me, and didn't even want me to put her down long enough to put a new diaper onto her. I got her changed, carried her into the kitchen with me to get her something to drink, and I just held her and walked around the house, in the dark, for about a half of an hour even after she had fallen asleep.
Another moment, locked away in the charished memories section of my mind.
Without even so much as grabbing my glasses, I ran into my son's room where I found his dresser drawers over turned and my daughter standing about three feet in front of them with tears streaming down her face.
She hadn't been hurt, when the dresser came crashing down from having her weight unbalancing it because she was standing inside of a drawer while attempting to climb her way to the top. I wasn't mad (although barely able to focus my eyes after having been startled awake so quickly), but just thankful that she was ok. After taking it all in, and making sure that everyone was fine, I became agitate; but only at myself for not having fastened the dresser and the shelving unit down after painting and rearranging Jack's room. This was the third time that the dresser had been pulled down, and I decided that it would be the last.
While downing a can of Mt. Dew, it only took about 15 minutes to do what I should have done months earlier. The dresser is fastened to the wall with the assistance of a dry wall anchor, and the shelving unit (which I would think would be more of a temptation to my children for climbing, but isn't) is fastened through the wall and directly into s stud. Neither strap will hold the full weight of a determined child who would hang on to a falling book case, but it will hold the furniture up long enough for them to realize that they are pulling it down and need to get away from it before it fully tips over or before the strap snaps out of either the wall or the furniture itself.
After the incident, Delaney decided that she wanted to be glued to her Daddy's arms and chest. She wouldn't let me put her down for the longest time. I know that there will come a time when my little girl no longer will run straight for Daddy's arms when thigs are tough, so I soaked in every moment and locked it into my memory. It will be moments like this that I will hold onto when my little girl is 12 or 13 and telling me that she hates me because I woun't let her do something or another, or when she is telling me that I'm embarrasing her in front of her friends. Those moments will break my heart, but I will always remember when my little princess wanted nothing more in the world than to be held by her Daddy.
I had a moment like this very early this morning, at around 4:30 AM. I awoke to hear one of the kids in the bathroom, and the sound of a little girl's voice daying "daddy help. daddy help." I found her trying to get up onto the toilet seat, and she couldn't get her step stool into position to climb up on the seat. I asked her what she was doing, and she looked at me with eyes barely open and said, "I poop." I said, you need to poop? She replaied, "yeah daddy. I poop." I pulled her diaper off of her (it was full of pee), and lifted her up onto the potty after putting her training seat on the seat. She grunted and groaned, made a bunch of faces, and finally tinkled. She finally looked at me and said "I can't Poooop, Daddy." I told her, "let's go put on a new diaper, and I'll get you a drink." She crawled up into my arms and put her head down onto my shoulder. She was settling in to go to sleep on me, and didn't even want me to put her down long enough to put a new diaper onto her. I got her changed, carried her into the kitchen with me to get her something to drink, and I just held her and walked around the house, in the dark, for about a half of an hour even after she had fallen asleep.
Another moment, locked away in the charished memories section of my mind.