About 5 years ago, on a very sunny 4th of July, an incident occurred at our house involving Josh. It was fairly epic, beats the hell out of shampoo or Coffee Mate thievery at any rate. He was lucky in about a 1,000 different ways that day and even now, five years later, just thinking about it puts my heart in my throat.
It was a hot day and we had central air in that house so the boys and I were inside. We had a fenced yard and a swing set, but it was too hot to be comfortable, and Josh does not like being out when the sun is bright anyway. Zach was playing some video game on the console in the family room, Josh was playing in the same area, and I was in and out between the kitchen (which opened up to the family room) and the back porch, where I was grilling our dinner.
One of the times I went out to tend to the grill, I was there for a couple minutes longer because of whatever was going on with the food on the grill at that moment. While I was there (and the grill was only a few feet away from the slider to the kitchen) a loud noise startled me - it was loud, but it had come from inside the house. My mind couldn't immediately place the noise, it wasn't anything I'd heard before. It was the same fear and confusion I felt during our big earthquake in 2001, having never experienced one that strong before. In a panic, I ran to the slider, opened it, and I am fairly certain my heart stopped right then and there, confronted with what I saw before me. There was Josh, sitting on the floor of our breakfast nook, surrounded on all sides by what was left of the glass top of the kitchen table. A circular, glass table top that had been about 4-5 feet in diameter. The table consisted of a bleached rattan frame, and this glass that sat on top. It was stable, didn't slide around on the frame it was way too heavy. Only about 8 inches extended out over the frame so there wasn't much there to act as any kind of a lever, you know, pushing on that part and flipping the top would have been difficult. And yet, there he was, my toad, sitting there, surrounded by shattered glass. Tiny pieces to very large, very deadly, pieces. Everywhere. I ran in and scooped him up out of the glass, convinced I would find him slashed and bleeding profusely. I took him to the sofa where Zach was still staring at me in terrified silence. I checked him head to toe. Nothing. Wait, what? I had to have missed a gash somewhere. I check again. All over. Not. A. Scratch. Save for 2 very tiny pokes on the bottom of one of his feet, he was entirely unscathed. I myself sustained several deep cuts just going in to pick him up out of it. I had to keep making sure the blood was mine and not his, I could not fathom that he was completely fine. Yet, he was. Thanks to anything and everything, he was. Several levels of shock were in place now, first over the incident itself, the thought of what could have happened to him, and the realization that nothing had. Miraculously. I had to call Bruce who was at work at the time. He won the "guy who gets to clean up all the glass" contest, lucky him. I kept Josh away. Not sure what happened to whatever I had been grilling.
The only thing we could come up with was that while Zach was busy with his game and I was at the grill, Josh probably climbed up on to the table and had to have jumped on it close to the part that extended beyond the frame so that it flipped off and shattered when it came down. Some force of good was looking after him that day, that's all I can tell you.
Which is really the bigger picture to this story. We were just talking about this recently, we have been very, very lucky with Josh as far as injuries go. Kids get hurt. It's just part of being a kid. Some more than others. I broke both my wrists (separate occasions!) growing up. Josh needed a couple of stitches in his forehead when he was just 2, after he fell against the edge of a door. But that's really been it. Fortunately, because I honestly do not know how we would manage an injury with him. I have mentioned how difficult it is just to stop a nosebleed. He won't even keep a band aid on for more than a second. If Josh ever needed a cast, he'd have it off within days, I have no doubt whatsoever. His ability to take things apart with his bare hands is frightening. That or he'd chew it off. Yum. Crutches, slings, bandages, braces, splints, or even stitches now that he's older, would never fly. Seriously, I imagine he'd have to be sedated for goodness knows how long just to keep him from un-fixing whatever needed fixing.
It's kind of a nightmare that I hope we never have to deal with.
(For the record, that table was replaced with one that does NOT have a glass top, in fact, the top of the new one is quite firmly bolted to the frame!)