Note to Self:

Don't pick up toddlers by their arms.

It didn't happen on purpose, but I was really worried I hurt Shane yesterday.

We were playing around at the park last night. My cell was in one hand, Shane's left hand was in my other. I called Nana to get an update on everything going on in the family right now (there's babies, a new job, an unexpected flight, oh my). A group of adults were on the playground. The guy was on the swings.

Shane knows no fear. He likes swings. When he sees someone swinging, he charges over without regard for maintaing a safe distance. Since I was trying to talk to Nana, I allowed something I normally never do: Shane was allowed to walk around the rocks just outside the playground. On the way over, I saw some glass off the path. I made a mental note to try and pick it up later, and steered Shane away while I kept talking on the phone. Shane vaulted up on the rocks and had a merry time running around and dragging me here and there.

That's the scene. The incident happened when Shane stuck his foot between a few rocks and ripped his sandal off. He'd already done this a couple of times. Each time, I would drag him in and replace his sandal. This time, he was having none of it. I saw the sandal come off and Shane took off like a bullet for the glass. If you've met Shane, you know how insistent, bull-headed, and plain quick he can move.

I saw the glass. I saw the missing shoe. I reacted.  I was still holding Shane's hand and I yanked up. Shane's foot sailed over the glass. It felt like there was a small pop in his wrist like when someone pops a knuckle. We came to a stop and Shane looked up at me quizzically. Then he started to cry.

I immediately scooped my son up, and tried to comfort him. I yanked up too hard. The glass would've been much worse, but guilt crept in. I carted Shane home in his stroller, and Carrie gave him a bottle to put him to bed. He was NOT a happy camper. Shane napped early and short Saturday morning, so I prayed that part of the fussing was from being overtired. I hate feeling guilty. Anger, jealousy, fear, and other negative emotions I tend to handle better than average, but guilt gnaws at me. Hurting my son is a new level of feeling guilty, even if it was to prevent a worse injury.

Thankfully, this morning Shane woke without a fuss and has been running, climbing, and crawling without any signs of pain. He was very confused when he saw a beardless dada, but that's a different story altogether.