The clumsy gene!

When I look at my daughters, I see all the things I passed on. T and M have both inherited my blue eyes and small features. They are both fearless like me and embrace each new experience just like my parents recall me doing decades ago (not that many decades, though. Honest). They both have my thick hair and are shaping up to be little, just like me. In short, they're both my clones.

To M, I gave blue eyes and a sense of adventure... 

To T, I gave a cheeky nature...

But G is all Daddy. Well, nearly all Daddy. If you look past the blonde curls and big, brown eyes, past the thoughtful gaze and deliberate, scientific nature, there's a little Mummy in there. Well out there. All over the place there. It seems instead of looks or personality, I've given her clumsiness.
Tables, chairs, walls, doors... If there's something solid in the way, G will walk into it. Well, unless I walk into it first. I've always been clumsy. In his father-of-bride speech, my dad had them rolling in the aisles as he regaled my friends and family with tales of how I would never use the stairs in the traditional way. I was more of a headfirst kind of child. Thus far, the carefulness G inherited from her father has protected her as she makes her way downstairs, but on the flat, she's just as accident-prone as her mum. She proved it this week as we made our way to a friend's house. With she and T indulging in their (hugely annoying) habit of fighting over my one available hand as I tried to push M's buggy, G somehow got her foot tangled in the wheel, and over she went.

But to my big brave G, I gave a lifetime of ouchies!

As I scooped up my screaming girl, I confess I sighed. G falling is hardly unusual, and she always makes the most of it. But I soon regretted being flippant. Blood was pouring out of her mouth. I tried to keep her and her sisters calm, as I swallowed my own tears and worked out just how much damage had been done. When she was barely a year old, she toppled over on our wood floor and chipped one of her shiny new teeth. Now, I was panicking she'd knocked one out completely. T was brilliant, playing peepo with her little sister to stop her getting bored and, to my huge relief, a bit of wiping revealed G had simply scraped her nose and bitten her lip. After a few cuddles, she felt fine, and we carried on to our playdate, where she had a great time.
I still felt awful though. About rolling my eyes when she fell, yes. But also because she got this trait from me. I could have passed on a flair for language or the ability to dance, but no.I gave her clumsiness.
So I just want to take a moment to apologise.
G, my big, beautiful girl. My first-born, my clever, cheeky wee angel, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the lifetime of cuts and bruises and bumps and scrapes. I'm sorry for the frustration, the annoyance and anger you'll feel towards inanimate objects and pieces of furniture. But this I can promise you. we're in this together. I will always be there to pick you up and cuddle away those tears. I'll kiss your ouchies and have plasters and magic cream. I know what it's like, and I promise never again to sigh and complain and make you think you're being silly to cry. I made you this way and I love you this way. In your own way, you're Mummy's little mini me too. I'm just sorry it has to be so painful.