He has a future in extreme sports.

Carter has been getting around really well lately. He seems to have no fear, mowing over anything in his path, climbing up, over, under, inside every new and interesting thing. Yesterday while sitting on the couch with me, he kept throwing himself over the front of the couch and if I didn't reach out to catch him, he would have landed on the floor right on his head. He'd giggle each time I saved him, and finally I thought to myself, "You're not going to be there to catch him every single time. He needs to know this isn't a game. It isn't fun." So the next time he did it, I broke his fall just enough to ensure he would land in a safe position, but otherwise let him feel the full impact of his 18" fall. I prepped to pick him up to dry his tears from the fall, sure that he had learned his lesson this time. But there were no tears. Instead, I heard the most hearty, rip-roaring laughter I've ever heard escape him. Then he turned around, stood up to the couch, and started bouncing up and down, asking me to lift him back up. Bouncing turned to a screaming temper-tantrum, and stupid first-time mom that I am, I gave in and lifted him up to the couch. He didn't sit for one entire second before thrusting his entire body forward and off the couch again.

Well that was yesterday. This morning he stood up on the tile in our kitchen and fell on his face. Ten minutes later, a dark purple bruise appeared in the perfect shape of his left eye socket. Heaven help me.