The Hurricane had her first major wipeout last night, and the tears were still flowin’ when I walked in the door after work.
Her Nana and Papa Farm got her a great table and chair set for Christmas, but she still has problem sliding off the hard plastic seat. When she wiggles her way to the end of the chair she can’t quite get her butt off before the legs kick out and she and the chair go skidding across the hardwood laminate flooring.
I guess last night, the position of the chair was in a bad spot and when the inevitable kick occurred, it sent The Hurricane headfirst into the toy box, a cheap chest made of a woven wood but with a fairly solid frame.
By the look of the blood on her chin, I think that’s what made contact with the toy box, although she said her teeth were sore and she kept her finger in there for a while, not letting Mom a peek for a few minutes. Luckily, all the pearly whites are still intact and standing where they’re supposed to.
So, after a bout of hugs with Mom, which I walked into the middle of, and then a quick hug and kiss from me, she was back in action, jumping on our bed (I know, we learn so quickly), then hiding under the covers, finished off with a bout of ripping around the house.
So we all survived her first big fall. Hopefully there’s no more of them, and if there are (duh), we’ll just hope for the same result.
Because kisses are the best way to heal wounds.