Death or serious injury

When you become a parent, you suddenly acquire this immense feeling of responsibility and protectiveness. This tiny little baby is yours, yours forever, and so it becomes your job to guard it from the world.

The mere thought of any harm coming to your baby is enough to put you in a cold sweat. You cushion everything in the house, you invest in crashproof car seats with built-in parachutes, you do everything that you can, and more.

A baby typically wears about four layers. And we live in California. They get wrapped up in a cocoon so warm and snuggly that no harm can possibly come to them.
Bubble babies, that’s what they are.

I think I’d go for the eyes. If anyone broke into this house, I’d be taking their eyeballs, no excuses. I’m having none of it. My home is my castle, and my treasure is for keeps.

Some nights you wake up in a sweat, just at the mere possibility of harm. You don’t sleep for hours more. Not that you really get the chance to sleep very often.

Really, parenthood is all about trying not to think of what might happen. What if, I took my eyes off for a second. What if, I let him play with that. What if, I don’t strap him in tight enough. What if, what if, what if.

I don’t want to think about it.
Please please please let me remove these damn permanent labels.