When scrapes happen, my heart sinks. The world stops as I wait... wait to see if she laughs or cries. Please, please, please laugh.
The world stops while I check her out... please not her head, or face, or teeth. Please no blood.
The world slowly starts to resume while I hold her, and she replays the catastrophy for me, as if I weren't right there.
She doesn't let me kiss it, or wipe her tears. NEVER wipe her tears or kiss her boo-boo. She hates it. There is no worse insult for her. Have you ever tried to NOT wipe a child's tears or kiss their boo-boo's? It's impossibly difficult.
Her independence and courage startles me. Scares me. Amazes me. Inspires me.
I know scrapes and bumps and bruises happen. It's a right of passage. It means she plays, and plays hard. And isn't afraid. And will learn caution. And will know that it won't hurt for long. Still, my heart sinks when she's hurt. I cry on the inside. Every. Time.
That's our Lilly. And, yes, she wears that dress A LOT.
(Don't you worry... Zac's post coming up soon!)
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