"Uh oh, honey, did you bonk you nog?" You'd hear this about twice a day if you were a fly on the wall in my living room. Now that Maeve is Miss Rolly-polly going everywhere, she has a tendency to knock her noggin into whatever's in front of her. We've made a few babyproofing changes, but it's impossible to make a completely safe room unless it's a padded cell.
I've shortened "noggin" to "nog", as it's shorter, and reminds me of eggnog. It also kind of reminds me of Pauley Shore's character in Encino Man who always calls everyone's head a melon. Pretty soon she'll be "weezin' the ju-uice" ... or more likely, never ever see that movie.
Anyway, every time she conks her nog, serious crying follows. I don't think it's because it hurts her head so much as it surprises her, and also might hurt her teething gums to get jarred like that. So I do my best to soothe her. You'd think, since most of the time she's crawling around on the floor that I'm right there with her, that I could catch her before these little bumps happen. But sometimes it's the classic slow-motion, where you suddenly see what's about to happen and are powerless to stop it. And once in awhile I made a really good catch.
It's kind of nice, though, that there are a few things like that, little noggin bumps, that are easily solved by my picking her up and cuddling her. I like any problem to which the solution is a good cuddle.
|Just before a pretty good bonk on the basket handle|