This morning as my husband and I were walking our toddler out to the car to go to daycare, our son ran so fast, he tripped over his own feet, fell down, and skinned his knee. It HURT. Not just him, but me. The wound was already raw and bleeding in the few seconds it took us to pick him up and examine it. And the tears came on just as quickly. We put down our purses, briefcases, and lunch bags and hurried back inside to administer first aid. He is a tough little bird, because he was already *poking* the raw rash and saying something akin to "ouch" in toddlerease before we could clean it up. A swipe of triple antibiotic ointment and a Big Bird bandaid later, and a smile had already returned to his face. I wish I could recover from skinned knees as quickly! I know that it wasn't his first skinned knee (we have quite the collection of "incident reports" from daycare thanks to state reporting requirements), but it was the first one that happened in my presence. In addition to the skinned knee rite of passage, we've already reached such other lofty milestones as the "first time he fell off of mommy and daddy's bed" and "brown recluse spider bite." Ah, parenthood.
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