I tripped over a thrown throw rug (moved to vacuum), and bashed my toe smack(!) into the corner of a kitchen cabinet. I howled quite a bit, and iced it for 5 minutes, then got back to business. As I walked around the library later I felt foolish for limping. What a baby, I thought. I cooked dinner with a minimum of steps in the kitchen, still babying my toe. At the dinner table I slid off my shoes. As I turned to get out of my chair, I noticed my swollen, bruised baby toe. We made a big deal out of how puffy and purple it was and everyone came to see the spectacle of the ugly overblown digit. No wonder I was limping and in pain, I exclaimed.
Later as I went upstairs to supervise evening shower and pajama routine, I noticed my toe had turned much darker, actually black. I saw G and said, “Look G, my toe is getting really dark. Look at my bruise!”
G looked at my toe, and quick as lightning, stomped on it, and turned to run into the bathroom. What? It was so quick I wondered for a split second if it really happened. My brain rushed to take in all the information: serious expression, not playful. Not scared, he’d seen it earlier. Not mad, he was in great spirits.
Simultaneously, I yelped very loudly, as you can imagine.
G’s reaction was just as surreal as his action. He ran to the stair top to yell, “It’s ok, I jumped on Mom’s toe. It’s my fault. It’s ok, everyone!” Our stairs are in the middle of our 2 story entryway, and we frequently yell out from there to someone on the 1st floor. We were all on the 2nd floor, which he knew. There was no reason to yell there because we were all within earshot of my LOUD cries.
I asked G, exasperated and frustrated, “Why did you do that? What made you do that?”
“I don’t know.”
Neither do I. How to figure this one out? How to not worry that he might do that to someone else some day. How to figure out how to explain it when he clearly did it as an impulse reaction. I’ll revisit it, try to work it into a learning experience of how to be gentle and loving when someone is hurt, which of course he already knows and practices. What made this scenario different?
I’m baffled. Some actions and behaviors are not going to fit into a neat box. Try as I may, logic and predictability often do not dictate G’s behavior or instincts. They can’t be explained. I must give it up, quash my curiosity and use that energy towards preventing it from happening again. My sweet G would not hurt a thing intentionally.
I’d so love a G user manual, preferably one that includes social stories for G’s triple-cracked, always-on-broken-power-switch itouch (I don’t know how it’s working, a true miracle!). With full body armor and Motrin for me. An aide, housekeeper, laundress and masseuse would work quite nicely too. I’ll cook, mama-taxi, give G play therapy. Oops- now I’m in la-la land. Dreams are free!
I’ll settle for assurance that he won’t do this to anyone else, never hurt anyone. Remotely.
On the plus side, purple is my most favorite color. I didn’t take photos, but after our little incident, my toe took on a horribly dark eggplant hue and a red circle formed at the base of the toe. I got an exam/xray to check if it was shattered. It’s fine, just a simple break. This photo is 2 days after, still wearing flip flops, no limping. Too late, I ‘d already finished, G wanted me to wear purple nail polish because it would look “very beautiful with my purple toe”.