Today, Abbe was with me at work. A wall in our office is entirely made of glass, from floor to ceiling. To protect people from falling through the glass (how would that happen?) there is a security bar, at about hip height. A bit like one of those ballet bars in front of a mirror, you know. The only difference being, you won’t see yourself when looking into the glass, but everybody in the street below will.
Anyway, Abbe of course wanted to stand there all the time, to check out the people in the street below. Nothing wrong with that. But then I see him hanging in the bar. Two little hands have taken a firm grip around the bar and my two-year-old is now dangling with his two feet 4 inches above the floor.
It’s not even a week ago he broke his right hand. I know. I saw the X-rays myself. Strange. And mighty.