So my oldest comes home from work all scraped up.

“What did you do now?” I ask. You can tell I’m used seeing him scraped, bruised and battered. He has a penchant to this type of thing.

“I tripped over a parking stop and fell-face down in the parking lot.” He replies matter-of-factly. He shoots me a sheepish grin. “I didn’t see it.”

“Were you drunk?” I ask because, a good redneck Mama gets to the bottom of the story quickly AND he works in a bar and grill. Ya know he may be an angel to me and look like an angel but…in reality…well…he’s not!

“No Mom! I didn’t! But I need one now!” I point to the liquor cabinet. Big Note: He is of legal age and actually to my relief a responsible drinker.

I smile as he pours a couple of fingers of whiskey. We begin reminiscing. This is my child who always got himself hurt. Usually not seriously but we did have runs to the ER periodically to check for broken bones and stitches. He is seriously accident prone.

I suspect it started when he began to walk and quickly progressed to running. This baby did not crawl. He would stubbornly commando crawl to a piece of furniture, pull up, and stand defiantly until I moved him to the middle of the room. Then he’d do it again. When he started walking at 8 ½ months, I knew I was in trouble with this kid.

Somewhere around the age of two he decided he could learn to fly. I’d see him on the couch arm he’d crouch and spring off the arm. Everyone including me would race to catch him, dropping anything we had in our hands. If I or someone else caught him he’d fling up his hands and laugh while being admonished. Or he would hit the floor…hard and cry while; we would comfort and assess the damage. {Sigh} We took to cushions on the floor until he outgrew the phase in a few very long months.

Boy scouts was good for teaching him to treat his own wounds and learning endurance. During the last cycling trip for the cycling merit badge the boys challenged themselves to a fifty mile trek on top of the dike surrounding Lake Okeechobee. There is a trail up there that tracks 25 miles around and 25 miles back. It does not by any means go around the lake but it gives a great view of the lake and the surrounding area. Well about at about mile 37 he took a tumble off the bike. Of course he didn’t just scrape a knee. Oh No! He was on the outside track of bikers and he falls off the bike and tumbles arse over heels partially down the dike. This boy gets up, brushes himself off, gets back on the bike and finishes the trek (another 12 miles give or take). He gets home still aching so he gets out the rib belt (Yes we still have one on hand 😀 ). He puts it on saying he’s okay just sore. However when I finally force him to the doctor three days later he has three cracked ribs. No biggie right. Oh Boy! It’s a wonder I survived his childhood.

After reminiscing I say, “Do you think you’ll ever outgrow being accident prone?”

He shrugs and says: “As far as I know I’m immortal, I have no proof to tell me otherwise.”

Arrogant boy! I’m so glad to have him but, I’m also glad his health and safety is now his own responsibility. I’ll always be concerned. However, today I realize, in a bittersweet way, I have moved on to this new phase in our lives. One more item I am no longer responsible for. He is immortal after all. Right?

Till next time

Milly