Today, Tom and I took our Infant/Child CPR + First Aid class. 8 hours worth of class later, we're certified to save Aidan from choking on hot dogs and having febrile seizures. I did this course 3 years ago, and it was a totally different experience. Every picture I saw made me sad, every really awful 80's enactment of an accident brought me to tears, and I couldn't stop thinking about all of the misfortunes that could befall poor little A. I sort of want to keep him tied to his stroller and on a liquid diet.
Tom wanted to poach away a nanny who was taking the class - regardless of the fact that she HAS a job, and we won't need anyone for another six months. He wouldn't drop the issue until she started excitedly chattering away about some priest or something that she just heard speak at her college. That was enough to help Tom move along. I'm more than not ready to think about which stranger we're going to pick to take care of our son. Blergh.
Tom got the dumpiest, most ghetto Resuscitation Annie doll EVER. The poor thing was absolutely filthy (the picture doesn't show this too well) and totally emaciated. Not to mention bafflingly anatomically correct (um, does a CPR mannequin actually need a VAGINA?).