The Living Bruise!

Sadly, Chunk inherited his mother's lack of grace and his father's well-meaning, but notoriously unreliable coordination. So, as I'm sure you can guess, klutz plus spaz equals many, many bruises, in adorable, little boy sizes.

We used to try to keep up with what was happening and when it actually happened. We would have long, sometimes very complicated discussions about the origin of each bruise or mark on his delicate skin. It was like our own little game show... Name That Bruise!

Theme show music kicks in here.

"What round shaped bruise can currently be found just below his left knee?"

"Hmmm. That's a tough one. Umm, I'll go with... Chunk pushing his stroller on uneven concrete!"

"Right!"

Much clapping.

"Okay, I'll take, "Falling down at day care" for $200!"

Flashing lights and bleeping noises.

"That's the signal for Double Injuries! In this phase of the game, you have to name the origin of the bruise and the other day care child involved! Are you ready?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Okay... the scrape on Chunk's cheek!"

"Oh... uh... let's see... I think that was Carter's fault... and, umm, I think it involved the plastic food play-set by the book shelf!"

Now that Chunk has graduated to "running speed," otherwise known affectionately as "ramming speed," the game has become nearly impossible. His legs are a horrifying jumble of little bruises and scrapes. The outer part of his palms have permanent purple bruises, just beneath the surface of his skin. And, no matter how many times we tell him to slow down, he still charges head long into injury.

It seems that he really only ever injuries areas that aren't covered with clothing. Somehow his t-shirts and shorts manage to protect his pale flesh from any damage. So, I'm thinking about getting him a full-body Nerf suit. At this stage, it's the only thing that makes sense.