thump

I left Hobbes napping on the sofa in the living room and wandered over to the kitchen to read and drink some tea. A few minutes into my book, I heard a thump and a squeak from the other room. Predictably, I dropped everything and dashed into the living room, where I found Hobbes on the floor, snoring contentedly into the carpet with his face mashed up against one leg of his swing set.

It took me a while to stop laughing. He was quite indignant at being awoken by his giggling mother, who wanted to determine for herself that he was not concussed, broken, or significantly bruised.

It amazes me that people like me are allowed to care for children.