Yesterday we went to a picnic. It was held in a pavillion, which means metal picnic tables on a concrete floor. (Funny - I never noticed how unsafe the world can be before I had a kid.)
Jaynie was climbing the bench of one of the tables (because that's what she does - she's a climber), and Joe and I were sitting there watching her like - "This can't be safe." So he moves over to sit right next to her, hands out in case she loses her balance.
The next thing I know my baby is falling the (what? 2 1/2 feet? seemed like at least 10 feet at the time) towards the concrete. She's falling straight back - she would've landed on her back and head. The look on her face is awful - such shock and fear. I am too far away (only a few feet, but it was happening so fast) to do anything.
Seriously - less than an inch away from the ground - her Dad catches her. I'm surprised he didn't scrape the back of his hand on the concrete - it was that close. Everyone around us broke into applause. I almost broke into tears. Jaynie started wailing and we could see that she bit her tongue (Joe swears she smacked her face on the bench on the way down, and that's when the bite happened. I didn't see a hit, and no red marks ever appeared - I think it was when he caught her. The world may never know.) A little ice and she was running around again.
If Grown-up-Jaynie is reading this, I just want you to know that no matter how difficult your Dad made your life as a teen (right now he seems to seriously believe he can keep you from dating till you're 30), he totally saved your bacon yesterday. So cut him some slack.
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