When DS was about 7mo I hit him in the face with his highchair. He was sitting on the floor and I picked the highchair up to pop it back in the kitchen after his lunch, I stupidly picked it up with one hand on the back and one on the tray. I hadn't clicked the tray back on properly so it came off in my hand meaning I only had hold of the back and the chair swung backwards away from me and straight into DS's little face. He went flying backwards and he was so shocked that he sat with a wobbly pet lip for a full ten minutes before actually crying, and he had a huge bruise on his forehead.
He once sat himself up too close to the edge of our bed and toppled backwards straight off the side. That evening I was running his bath and he was on our bed again. I stood up to go check the bath and told DH to sit down and make sure DS didn't fall again (I was still feeling guilt for that morning). DH thought it would be funny to bellyflop onto the bed and that the bouncing mattress would make DS giggle. So he bellyflopped and the mattress bounced. DS didn't giggle though because it bounced so hard that he was instantly flipped straight off the side of the bed.
To date he has eaten/drank sand, soil, glitter, wedding confetti (I found a gold "congratulations!" and a teeny champagne glass shape in his nappy), PVA glue, dog food, several ants and at least one spider, windfall unripe crabapples from my parents' tree, Miracle-Gro, a pound coin, a Haribo he found in the street, two BB pellets, and a teabag. He's fast and he's sly, I've foiled his attempts most of the time but these are the ones that slipped through.
He's two next month and still has a "dee-dee" (dummy) although he has been cut down to mostly bedtimes only and will be off it entirely soon.
DH asked the other day where DS got his latest bruise and I joked that I beat him while DH is at work. This has backfired enormously as DS now grins and says "I'm beaten" whenever the mood takes him.
The neighbours think I'm a terrible mother because he's going through a phase of throwing a shit-fit at bedtime, full of screaming tantrums in his cot even though he's blatantly knackered. He's due a growth spurt and he does this each time, it's one of the ways I know a spurt is on the way. Well this time round the little toad darling has gotten wise and will whimper "mama, mama" in the most pathetic voice you can imagine whist grinning his head off. If this gets no response he tries it with "dada". When this doesn't bring us running he pounds on the wall and the cot with the flat of his hands and shrieks "MAMA! Nooooooooo! OW! OW MAMA!". And we let him carry on his charade until he falls asleep, we sit next to the baby monitor trying not to laugh out loud whilst the neighbours probably sit there wondering what we're doing to our poor child.
He had Greggs for lunch today but refused to eat his pasty and ate a bag of Wotsits instead. This was after two French Fancies.