Nothing to Worry About

The next time Amy critiques my relative lack of concern for out children's safety (relative being the key term--I'm paranoid just not as paranoid as she is) I'll let her read this article.

A few years ago I came out of my home office to find my youngest son, Keegan, who was 2 years old at the time, dancing on a chair. In his hands were an ice pick and a kitchen knife. In his mouth? A lightbulb. The chair? It was on top of our kitchen counter!
Of course maybe she'd let me get away with more if I was Tony Hawk.


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