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Trotting Little T

Little T has started trotting.  And suddenly we're in the "OMG I must rush quickly or he will hurt himself" stage of toddlerhood.  A good stage in that he can move a lot quicker.  He can also stand on his tiptoes.  He now uses two hands to ride trikes and bouncy airplanes.

Little T hates traffic and loves toy cars and real snakes and bugs.  He hates puppies and loves big well-behaved dogs.  At the same age Special K had the exact opposite preferences. 

It might be entertaining if traffic wasn't a daily part of our walk to the park. 

Little T screams as I hold his left shoulder across the street.  I must stoop over and prolly appear as if I have him in some bizzare game.  If I hold his right shoulder, he yowls harder.  Holding his hand produces crying and painful tugging on my wrists.  "Scary scary cars" he screams or more often just screams with no words.  Scary is clear.  Cars maybe not so much.   I  prolly look like a terrible mother.  Which I might care about except there's always the danger that he might break away and fall over and get a huge bump on his head. 

Like the goose egg he's sporting now. I asked him how he got it and he pointed and said "fish" and pointed to a fish high up in the playground.
Too high to cause a bruise.  Aspirin causes easy bruising.  So I have no idea how he hurt himself.