“Goodnight, baby girl,” I whispered, tucking my two-month-old daughter, Alex, into her crib. I was careful not to shake her noisy new “busy box” hanging at the far end. The busy box, a brightly colored cube, was covered with bells, buttons and knobs that made every ring, squeak, rattle and ding you could think of. Alex was still too young to play with all the gadgets but sometimes her three-year-old sister, Kelly, happily reached up and gave it a whirl for her.
I wasn’t tired yet and my husband, Mike, was reading in bed so I grabbed a home-decorating magazine and a tiny razor and plunked down on the living room floor. I loved combing the pages for inspirational photos which I could slice out and add to my “dream folder.” I had collected quite a lot during my pregnancy and found it relaxed me and reduced my stress.
About an hour later, I was exhausted. I put the blade into my shirt pocket, cleaned up my scatterings and checked on Kelly—who had already been put to bed. I kissed her forehead, then crept silently into Alex’s room. I leaned over the bars of her crib, rubbing her back gently, again, careful not to shake the busy box. Then, I went to bed and drifted off…
RING! RING! A bell jolted me awake at 1:00am. RING! RING! Instantly, I recognized the sound. The busy box! It was probably just our cat, Sidney, pawing at it, but I rubbed my eyes and got up to check. I spotted Sidney conked out on our bed. What? Who is making that noise? I wondered, hurrying down the hallway.
I darted into Alex’s room. The ringing had stopped. Alex was sleeping peacefully—two feet away from the busy box. I stared at the now-silent toy. Maybe I’m just hearing things, I thought, reaching down to adjust Alex’s blankets.
That’s when I felt it. Cold, sharp steel…just three inches from Alex’s tiny hand. The razor blade! It must’ve fallen out of my pocket and into the crib earlier. I couldn’t believe how careless I’d been. If it hadn’t been for that bell.
That bell. Which no one had been around to ring. No one I could see…
