It happened two weeks ago when I walked away from him for half a second while I finished getting dressed for work.
Wyatt was on his play mat in the living room floor. I was six feet away at most, but apparently that is exactly the distance a little boy needs from his mother to injure himself.
When I came back from exchanging my pajama shirt for a dress shirt, I found blood smeared on Wyatt's nose.
"Why are you bleeding?" I nervously asked my 6-month-old son. The expression on his face seemed to say, "Lady, I just got my first teeth. Do you really think I can answer that?"
Dozens of thoughts raced through my mind while I wet a paper towel and cleaned him up.
He wasn't crying, so whatever caused the bleeding wasn't painful. That calmed me a little.
Maybe it was a nose bleed. Uh-oh. That could be a sign of something serious.
Thankfully, it was just a small scratch. He's had lots of those in his short life.
While we were in the hospital, he had a new scratch on his face every morning. In one picture, he looks like a cat attacked him in the nursery.
The nurses said it was too early to cut his fingernails, so we had to keep socks on his hands instead. He looked like he was wearing boxing gloves.
Maybe Rocky Jr. should be added to his growing list of nicknames. If the phrase "all boy" describes anyone, it's my son. I guess that's my fault for naming him Wyatt.
He is a tough little guy. The rougher the men in his life play with him, the louder he giggles. It's only a matter of time before he is beating all of them up.
I expect that there will be a few minor bumps and bruises when he starts to walk.
His first bike will bring some scratched knees and elbows, especially if he takes the hills around our house too fast.
He might even get hurt playing football in the yard with his daddy one day. Of course, it will be all Zac's fault.
I guess I should start preparing myself for more serious situations than a scratch on the nose.
So should Zac based on our overreaction to an incident when the baby was a few weeks old.
The ring from Wyatt's circumcision came off late one evening. When I inspected him, I thought the area where the ring had been looked too red.
I was concerned that it was infected. Zac called and left a message for the pediatrician. By the time he called back, we had worried ourselves into a frenzy.
The doctor gave Zac the name of a cream that might help. Zac jotted it down and ran out to the nearest drug store without saying much of anything to me because he was in such a hurry.
So there I was, walking the floors with my newborn son and hoping that my negligence hadn't scarred him for life.
I was so nervous that I asked my parents to come over and wait with me. They both took one look at the baby and said that he was fine.
We did use the cream a few times, but even we could tell by the next morning that there was nothing to be worried about.
I don't know if it was the redness or our new-parent nerves that disappeared overnight.
I wish that I could keep Wyatt in a safe zone for the rest of his life. Then I would never have to worry about accidents or disease.
But I know that I can't protect him forever. I can only do my best to mend his inevitable wounds, whether it's a busted knee or a broken heart.
The scratch from two weeks ago was an easy fix. A little water and a butterfly Band-Aid was all he needed.
He fought me at first because he hates to have his face washed. (I did say that he was all boy, right?)
When I was done, he gave me one of his gorgeous two-toothed grins so I would know that he was okay. I laughed and wanted to cry at the same time.
At least now he knows who to come to when he has a boo-boo that he wants kissed.