Baby Bop is 5 weeks old and I’ve been a mom for 5 weeks. I was overdue for my first mom fight.
Getting out of the house is an Olympic hurdle. I’m waiting for my gold medal for walking around the block.
I head out to meet family for lunch. It’s hot and Baby Bop is fussy. We survive. On our way home I swing through South Station and stop at the water fountain. I lean over for a drink while Baby Bop is asleep in her stroller next to me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see something flying towards my baby. I swing around. I throw my arm out to stop the projectile object reaching for her. It’s a 3-year-old child.
The mom of the runaway child shouts at me,
“Don’t push her.”
Adrenaline is pulsing through my body. All I know is that I didn’t have an eye on my baby for one second while I took a drink of water from the local watering hole and a small animal tried to come eat my baby. I swung around and my animal brain saved my baby.
Yes, I may have pushed a small child. Not hard. She’s fine. So is Baby Bop.