Blood, Sweat and Yogurt

Last night, we hit hit yet another "developmental milestone." (And yes, that's still code for crap Brynn does or learns that makes my hair go gray) My child is a daredevil. She climbs like a monkey (like a drunk, slightly suicidal monkey) and loves to throw herself down stairs, ladders and slides, hang off of safety gates (ironically, NOT very safe), cribs, and shelves, and throws herself head first off of couches, laps, car seats, and change tables.

In other words, my child has no fear.
None. Zero. Zip. Nada. Squat. Bupkis. Squadouche.
She stares fear in the face, rips off its nose and eats it as a snack while humming a happy tune.
That's just how badass she is.

Last night, I'm in the kitchen cleaning up from supper. There was yogurt EVERYWHERE. Brynn was feeding herself and by the end we both looked like some kind of epicurean experiment gone horribly wrong. Imagine some food scientist asking, "What do you mean the yogurt exploded?" and you get the idea.

Then, I hear her titter. hee hee And in my head I'm thinking: eh, no big deal.
I hear her giggle. tee heeheehee But then I begin to wonder: hmmm.
I hear her laugh. hahaha Then I get that sinking feeling in my stomach: uh oh.
I hear her bust a gut at the top of her lungs. Bwahahahahahahaha And BAM! I know, whatever is going on is going to age me at least 10 years.
I look up from the sink to see what is so funny and my 15 month old is standing - no, RUNNING - like that drunk, slightly suicidal monkey from one end of our sectional couch to the other laughing so hard she can't breathe, let alone keep her balance.
When did you learn to climb our couch??????? Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen?
The next few seconds played out like a slow motion "nooooo" from just about any cheesy movie you've ever seen.
Happily, she didn't fall...or rather I broke her fall...with my face...which bled while she laughed and poked at the blood. Yup. It was awesome.