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Wednesday, July 13, 2011


See that fading bruise on her forehead?
See that other one on her chin?
Did I mention her putting a punk out in her ear?
How about the elbow dislocations, of which she has had three?

The picture does not show the half-dozen or so bruises on her shins, the one on her arm, or the knot on the back of her head, all from her usual habit of flinging herself around dramatically, jumping when walking would do, or just tripping over her own feet. The growth spurt in which she is evidently embroiled isn't helping matters much. When she's not stuffing her face full of fruit and cheese, or sleeping like a dead thing, she's doing her normal active-preschooler schtick, with one difference... she doesn't know where her hands and feet are, since they're further away from her body than they were last week. At least, this is my supposition, having been through similar times with Abby (although Abby was never this active, resulting in fewer bruises. Abby is monkey-bar-blisters girl.), and with my own body when pregnant with them (you're clumsy when your center of gravity shifts every couple hours!).

But given her propensity for whacking herself on the nearest objects, I was just as happy today when - after trekking down to the garage (at the other end of our apartment complex) for the express purpose of riding her trike - she didn't want to. "It's too fast," she said, "and the water is too in my eahs," which was her reason for not wanting to go to the pool with Laston and the big girls (for which Laston was just as happy - keeping track of her near deep water is trying at best). So Lizzy and I went for a walk on the nature trails that wend through our neighborhood, and talked to neighbors walking dogs, and picked dandelions, and generally had a nice time.

I just want to keep my accident-prone, super-active, hard-to-potty-train, stubborn, sweet, smart, cute-and-sassy little girl safe.