I was saying this past weekend was the anniversary, because it was a Sunday that we wound up at the hospital with the munchkin, but this is the official date last year of when he pulled a hot cup of tea on himself and we had to be air-lifted to the hospital in Orlando.

How are we commemorating the anniversary? Probably with gray hairs under all my rainbows of dye.

A week ago Sunday while I was cooking roast beef as a welcome to our house mate, and we’d been able to keep him out of the kitchen for the most part, but at an inopportune time he snuck in and grabbed the shelf-rack from the oven and burned himself on it, thankfully not hospital worthy, but scary and painful.

He had two blisters on his hand, but I kept putting neosporin on them and was surprised when they didn’t burst, but they burst on Sunday, why? Because while I was cleaning up the dishes and loading the dishwasher that morning he tried to be helpful by bringing me a glass, tripped and dropped/broke the glass, cut his arm and burst his blisters. YARGH.

I once again speculate as to how he’s going to survive until he’s three.

I’m also hoping that each August is not going to be marked by escapades like this.