Axel had a traumatic weekend. It all began when we decided to take a family bike ride to the farmer's market. No matter how often I told Axel his helmet was necessary to protect his brains, or told him that it made him look like a freeze-dried astronaut, he did not take to the bulky headwear. Just as soon as we rode down the driveway, Axel slumped over in the seat and, from his sad dramatic angle sprawled on his left side, wailed until everyone we passed thought we'd put hot coals in the bike carrier with our baby. We made it 3/4 of a mile before turning back and taking the car. He sang in his carseat, relieved that his head felt so light, unhindered by protective headgear. So that future bike trips are less dramatic, we're going to have short helmet-acclamation times indoors. Given how often he falls over, the helmet can't hurt. Note: photo below was taken prior to meltdown.
Other minor traumas followed: I tried to shut the dishwasher as he approached, but he slid his hand in just as it was almost shut and I pinched his palm. His finger got caught in a drawer. He was not allowed to play with the lamp cord. He had to take naps. His face was wiped clean with a washcloth multiple times.
The biggest trauma of all, at least for me, took place on Saturday afternoon during snack time. Snack time sounds so safe and friendly, doesn't it? Who doesn't love snack time? Who doesn't love soft fuzzy bunnies, and yummy snack crackers shaped like bunnies? Axel was settled in his highchair, chomping away at some delicious cheddar bunnies, when he started silently gagging. You know, that big eyed, mouth open air gulp thing babies do? Axel's done it before when he had too big of a mouthful of mashed yam, or swallowed a big piece of bread. This time, it lasted longer, and he didn't cough or clear his throat as he usually does. Something was caught in his throat. He hadn't gummed all of the bunnies to bits, as he did the last time he had them. His eyes watered, and he looked up at me to help. He was choking.
I called my husband up from the basement and I stood there basically getting in the way and saying, "Should I call 911?" It's important to keep a level head during emergencies, which is why I buzzed around the kitchen trying to remember anything from the baby safety/CPR class I took when eight months pregnant but only succeeding at unhelpfully recalling how big the plastic 8-lb-baby-sized models looked to me then, and that the baby in the CPR movie had choked in the kitchen, too, though it had appeared to be sleeping in a bouncy chair prior to the emergency. Axel half coughed out the bunny, then sucked it back in again. Sean grabbed Axel out of the highchair, flipped him over, and started doing back blows. I couldn't think of anything useful to do but stare at Sean and beg Axel to breathe. After what felt like an hour but was more likely a few seconds, a big orange chunk came out of Axel's mouth - the evil airway-obstructing cheddar bunny, still intact. After a few minutes of vocal (thankfully) crying, and a little milk, Axel wriggled to be put down on the floor, so he could commence the important work of banging a black plastic spoon against the coffee table legs. As soon as he calmed down, I started shaking and trying not to cry, in post-emergency adrenaline rush relief.
Sean stayed calm through it all. Babies choking at snack time certainly wasn't the biggest emergency of his week; he's seen worse. Also, he was not responsible for giving our son potentially deadly snack food, as I kept reminding myself. It seems that whichever parent is more responsible for the accident is the one who freaks out the most - when Axel fell out of Sean's arms and onto the grass at a friend's party, I was the calm one. We swap parent panic. Accidents happen, and will keep happening, all the time. Given Axel's constant buzz of activity, and that he may have inherited his mama's klutziness, we're in for lots of bumps, bruises, and more.
The bunnies really weren't to blame. They're just an innocent crunchy cheesy snack. It just as easily could've been yam fries or a piece of cheese. Still, Axel's not getting any more of those cheddar bunnies unless they're crumbled up into tiny pieces and Sean's around to call in for back-up. And I'm going to take another CPR class.
