It's a glorious feeling to watch your son take his first wobbly step. The precious boy is walking! I still remember that day Ozzy took three steps towards me and hugged me ... to keep his balance. His face delighted and proud. His smile drew a wide crescent moon on his face. I loved it! I felt drunk happy!
Then he started walking... then jumping ... then climbing...then hopping...and then trying to get himself to fly. I had terrors. I worried too much that my blood would stop flowing for a moment several times. I felt like the best solution was to strap him onto a chair FOR GOOD! Or at least until he turns 21!
I had night terrors. After a peaceful day of routine, I would suddenly be dreaming about poking his eye out somewhere and he was bleeding. And I would dialogue in my dream and say "There was nothing I could do. I've damaged my boy forever" and resolve that I would love him no matter what. There was this one time I dreamed that he had been walking freely and I warned him not to go down the stairs. In my dream, I knew he would fall, but I thought I kept warning him. Then he fell. He fell down eighteen steps, leaving permanent damage that I couldn't do anything about.
I am constantly worried...and paranoid even during times when I'm supposed to be resting. I just need to know how legal it is to strap him on a chair for the rest of his life.
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