Sunday, May 06, 2007


Every Sunday when we get home from church David and I go upstairs to change our clothes. Today as I lay on my bed talking to David as he hung his suit, I could hear Wendy crying downstairs. I assumed it was a reaction to some My Little Pony sibling snatching or the like. My usual reaction to an incident like that is to let the kids work it out on their own. She cried for several minutes and as I was approaching the door to go downstairs, I saw her walking down the hall with snotty, tear diluted blood dripping from her mouth. Naturally I picked her up and held her a foot in front of me not allowing her to lay her bloody face on my brand new Target white cable knit, short sleeved sweater. She was trying so hard to force her little traumatized head on me for some comfort and I wasn't giving it to her. I put her on my bed face up and wiped her clean. Apparently she had fallen and bitten her upper lip and we never did figure out how she fell because there were suspiciously no witnesses to the incident. I gave her a kiss.

There is something about bloody kids and my white cable knit sweaters because Jason was born while I was wearing my brand new Gap maternity white cable knit sweater. When the ER nurse asked if I wanted to hold my brand new baby boy. I told her "no" because I didn't want to wreck my new sweater. I said, "Cut the cord, clean him up and bring him back wrapped in a blanket." She understood.

Later that evening when Wendy fell off her high chair and thumped her face on the tile floor. I immediately swooped her up and allowed her to lay her head on my shoulder. This time I had already changed into an Old Navy clearanced Valentine's Day T-shirt before eating my spaghetti dinner.

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