The kid has no spatial awareness, or concept of gravity what so ever. I feel like all I do some days is try to prevent her from killing herself to death with her precariousness. I wonder if I am being over-protective, but she very rarely proves me wrong in my paranoia.
Take last night for example.
Hayden, fresh from his bath was being dressed on our bedroom floor. Skye was assisting by dancing around and pulling faces at herself in front of the mirrors. After several impressive demonstrations of her self-taught yoga poses, Skye suddenly yells out "Hey Mum, can you do this?" as she attempts to pirouette between myself and the bed whilst continuing to look at herself in the mirror. I glance up just in time to see her trip over her own feet and disappear between the bed and the bedside table, but not before she cracks her eyebrow on a corner.
No honey, I can't do that, or more to the point, I don't think I want to.
She got herself a good one too, she managed to draw blood and I expect she will get a shiner for her efforts.
It will really set off the black shins she has given herself trying to jump up the back steps.
She is just one of those kids.
In her 3 short years she has torn off toe nails, had numerous nose bleeds, bitten through her lip, bounced off doors, slipped over in the bath and fallen off perfectly stable lounges. Don't even get me started on the random stuff she will eat off the floor or kitchen bench.
In every instance I have been right next to her, telling her to settle down before she hurts herself.
Not that it helps.
Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off just letting her learn the hard way.
But I can't help but worry how many broken bones and concussions it would take for her to figure it out.