There was the time Daphne was sitting on the couch playing AlphaBaby on our MacBook. She was typing (aka banging) away while Dave and I discussed something mundane. At some point Dave asked a question and I looked at him to answer. When I turned a moment later to look at Daphne she was gone. I'd registered a thud in my recent memory and deduced that the sound came from Daphne hitting the floor after falling off the couch. Luckily there was a little mat there that helped cushion her fall. Daphne didn't notice that she'd been a victim of gravity as not a single peep came out of her, just a cute smile as she waited for me to pick her up.
Then there was the time when Daphne was learning to stand by means other than Dave's or my hands for support. In order to help her get to some of the objects she desired on our coffee table I placed her facing me on my left hand side. I was prepared to grab her with my left arm if she started to tumble. At some point during another mundane conversation with Dave I diverted my attention from Daphne to empathize with his frustration at burning yet another batch of sweet potato fries for Daphne; those things do not bake well from frozen. This time I saw Daphne's descent begin but was powerless to help. I heard a much louder and harder sounding thud when her little head hit the ground, probably because of the hardwood floor that she hit. She cried this time, and I did too. Sadly for her my tears were on the inside; on the outside I mustered up the best smile I could and told her that she was just fine. She didn't believe me and I don't blame her.
The doozy though is this one: while I was checking email after her morning nap Daphne sat playing on the floor. She'd assumed her usual airplane position that's evolved enough to allow her a decent amount of mobility. At some point I looked down to see a look of puzzlement on her face, followed by a scream-cry. As I picked her up I couldn't help but notice the close proximity of the MacBook charger to her playspot. The end of the charger (the magnetic part that plugs into your Macbook) must have fallen off the laptop as I grabbed it to check my email. Of course this is what has to have happened: Daphne, a lover of all things technical, saw the cord fall and made a mad dash to it. Upon reaching the cord, she gave it a thorough inspection before placing the funky part into her mouth. Once said funky part touched either her tongue or lip she received a zap strong enough to cause her to remove the cord from her mouth and proceed to cry. A quick Google search suggested that I check the site of possible electrocution and look for tiny burns. We were negative on that front. I checked Daphne's cognitive skills by calling her name and seeing if she'd respond; we were good there. I then checked Daphne's fine motor skills by feeding her Cheerios and gross motor skills by getting her to stand; check, check. Finally I waited for Daphne to speak (if you can call it that) and she was just as incomprehensible as she normally is. Plan B was to check to see what type of harm the charger could actually do, so I did what any sane person would do: I licked it myself. I received a tiny shock -- so tiny, in fact, that I thought I could have maybe imagined the feeling. As Dave wasn't home I anxiously awaited his lunchtime phone call. When I answered I explained to Dave that his daughter was dead and that I killed her. He asked me who was making the screaming sounds in the background to which I replied "That's the ghost of your dead, electrocuted daughter." I then explained to him what happened, he assured me that everything was fine and told me he'd see me later. While on his bike ride home, Dave couldn't help but think 'she's going to make me lick the charger, I just know it.' When Dave got home, I kissed him hello, handed him his daughter and then took her back. I waited for him to take his shoes off before handing him the cord. "I knew it!" he said, "I knew you were going to make me lick the stupid charger." Knowing that I wouldn't take no for an answer, he cautiously licked the cord and then stupidly plugged it into the Macbook (he claims that he wiped it off, I don't believe him). Anyway, long story short we have an appointment at the Apple Genius Bar tomorrow to see whether we fried our battery or our charger. The funniest part is I'm not even sure if Daphne licked the cord to begin with. Oh, and Dave felt a zap too.
Ten months, two medium fails and one big one. According to my doctor I have one big one to go to catch up to the average number of 'big' accidents babies have by the time they're one. Yippee.
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