I Almost Died...And I Haven't Heard The End Of It

Ask any parent of a 3 year old about life and they will tell you that it is wonderful.  Days are filled with fairy tales, pig tails and kisses. That is true but it is also wildly chaotic, at least it is at my house.

My 3 year old has a baby that she sleeps with, eats with, sits with, watches tv with...she is rarely separated from her baby.  It's a 3 ft tall baby.  It's almost as tall as she is.  This morning she drug her baby through the house and got in bed with me.  When she got up she left her baby laying in the floor just inside of my bedroom door.  Do you see where this is going?  Not long after she got up I went into the room for something and tripped over the baby.  I nearly died.  My entire life flashed before my eyes as I tripped over the giant plastic baby that covered nearly the entire floor.  Before I even hit the floor I could hear the footsteps and screaming, "MOMMA!".  "MOMMA, NO! MOMMA, NO HURT BABY! BABY BO-BO HURT MOMMA!"  Clearly my near death experience was not nearly as important as the giant plastic baby that caused me to trip in the first place.  And that's when I learned that to my 3 year old I rank just below plastic.  Nice, huh?  Well, that was several hours ago.  Every few minutes she tracks me down, dragging her baby behind her, to remind me that I "hurt baby".  I wonder if this is one of those traumatic childhood experiences psychologists always talk about.  Maybe I should contact Dr Phil.  I'll give it 24 hours...