39 down, 9,090 to go.

I've felt guilty all day.

As a parent, you might think that you are fully aware of all the ways that your kids can be hurt, and that you have taken into account all of those ways, and are dealing with them responsibly.

You may put the emergency brakes on your stroller everytime, because of the one time that you didn't and you and Sweetie had to chase it down a hill and Sweetie got to it just before you did, and both of you got it just before it hit a mailbox, and you learned from that.

And you may put all the sharp knives up on top of the refrigerator, where there is also a barrel of cheese balls that Sweetie bought when she went grocery shopping, proving again what a great wife she is because she remembered that the only thing better than "cheese balls" is "cheese balls that come in a barrel."

And you may take all kinds of other steps to ensure that your kids do not get hurt, like making sure that Mr Bunches stands well back from you when it's Mr F's turn to "Superspin."

But then, despite all of those precautions, you will fail, because you will be clipping your toenails while you watch Brett Favre in the Jets game on Thursday night (multitasking!) and Mr F will then climb onto your lap because among the many inexplicable things he likes, he also likes having his fingernails clipped, and so you will try to be a good dad and clip his fingernails, but you'll cut his ring-fingernail a little too short... short enough that it hurts, but not so short that it is actually injured.

And then Mr F will cry for an hour and finally cry himself to sleep in his bed all worn out and red-faced and sweaty.

And then he'll wake up this morning and you'll go in there to get him out of his frog pajamas and into his sweatpants and sweatshirt because even 2-year-olds deserve "Casual Friday," and he will be smiling and happy and looking well-rested...

... but you'll notice that he's holding his hand over the finger you clipped. And you'll feel terrible all day.

And then you'll vow to take him for a ride tonight because he loves car rides.

But until then, you'll be feeling terrible.

Song 39: "Bad Day," by REM.