A friend of mine once told me that when he was a toddler, his mom would strap him and his twin brother in kid bike helmets and then send them off to the basement to play, safe in the knowledge that even if they went looking for trouble, they couldn't get too hurt. I've often wondered about using that strategy for Aaron, who always seems to find the corner of a table or the edge of wall with his cranium.
But lately, I've been thinking that maybe I'm the one who needs the helmet. Sometimes, when Aaron and I are horsing around, he'll bop me with his noggin or clock me with some metal toy in his hand. And when he's angry at me, he's not above kicking me in the face or smacking me across the jaw. This past weekend, while I've already been woozy from a never-ended headache, he got me good a good half-dozen times. So forget the helmet: I might need that and a mouthguard and chinstrap.
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