Hubby was carrying Robby out the front door of our building; I was taking Robby’s stroller/carseat and Sam out the back so I could use the wheel chair accessible ramp. I was walking in front of Sam with the stroller when I heard him fall on his way down the ramp. I let go of the stroller to turn around and help him up because he was clearly hurt and upset. When I started to get him up he became visibly more upset, trying to articulate something and pointing over my shoulder. Finally he found the words through his tears, “Wobby! Wobby!” I turned around to see what he was so upset about. When I let go of the stroller it had rolled down the ramp, down a small hill, and into a bush, where it now stood askew. Sam had forgotten that Robby was with Daddy and thought his brother had crashed into a bush, and that is what he was most concerned about even though his hands were quite skinned and bloody.
I don’t know if I should be really proud that he is such a protective and empathetic big brother, or if I should be really worried that he thinks his Mom would let his younger sibling fly down a hill in a stroller and crash into a bush.