The advantage of Sean sleeping in his own bed now...

One of our friends, also the parent of a toddler, recently acknowledged some surprise at the quickness with which their kid had whipped a book around, catching him squarely, and unaware, on the jaw. This reminded me of a list I'd been working on sporadically, on a mental back burner.

No, not "Books I'd rather not get clocked in the face with" (though of Sean's books, I think that'd be (1) Richard Scarry's Best Word Book Ever (big, hardback); (2) Why I Love My Daddy (also a big hardback; irony); (3) Exercise-with-Pooh boxed set (basically a hard, cardboard cube with a handle, and six books that could fly out; and (4) the Curious George omnibus (hardback; 400 pages).

No, I'd been thinking of all the ways I've come this close to breaking something (or having Sean break it) in the course of handling Sean and his surroundings.

Here's the list of things I've realized might be at risk:

- thumb (weight shifting, when I've got him by the armpits)
- finger (similar; he does occasionally grab one and hold it firmly)
- nose (throwing head back; bringing book to my attention)
- teeth (if he were to stand up under my chin when my mouth is open... ouch.)
- cheek (a dark horse, but occasionally and scarily plausible)
- wrist (more of an issue when he was lighter and more wiggly)
- knee (changing positions and either losing balance or guessing wrong about where he's going, and stepping somewhere inartfully)
- wherever he happens to kick out with one/both feet while sleeping/in bed (really, could be anything).
- and then there's a catch-all category, for the inevitable surprise(s), like when Sean decides to do somersaults in bed in the dark when one or more of us are trying to sleep.

Now that we've started having him sleep in his own bed, this should cut down on the likelihood of any of the above risks materializing.