My husband told me casually one day that he got electrocuted several times as a kid.
Like how many times is several?
Well there was the time with the Christmas lights. Then once while setting up the wiring for the horse stable and a few other times I can’t remember.
Yeah, I bet!
My mommy mind was actually exploding. On a scale of 1 to 10 on the anal-retentive scale of worry, I consider myself to be an even 5 with 1 being I’m sure my toddler is around here somewhere and 10 being it’s mandatory that my child wear a helmet on the park swing. As a 5, I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I won’t allow my daughter to dabble in activities that may result in her electrocution. This must simply be a boy thing and we need not worry because we will only be having girls. But here is the kicker! My husband has wonderful, protective parents as do I, and I too was electrocuted as a child. I remember going into the garage when I was around 10 and trying to plug in the light with my finger in the way of the socket.
The feeling of knowing that your child will inevitably feel pain, as a parent, is truly terrifying. Now that Charlotte’s standing and crawling everywhere, I’ve entertained the idea of swaddling her in bubble wrap and just rolling her around the house until she gets tired from giggling too much. Knowing her, she’d be amused for a day and then she’d be looking to go for a swim in the dog’s water bowl, again.
What I have come to accept is that worrying about the worry is no way to live. Sure I cringe when Charlotte finds a way to lick every ball in the ball pit where we do baby gymnastics and my heart skips a beat when she scales the couch only to fall backwards on her perfectly padded lil’ tushie. All of these experiences make our children stronger and ultimately us stronger as parents. So if you’re wondering where you fall on the scale, I suggest covering your outlets but put your hands up and step away from the bubble wrap.