Poor Little Miss. She likes to run along the curb at the Metro stop (it's maybe 3-5 inches off the sidewalk). She likes to walk along higher routes as well, but she's not allowed to run on those. Yesterday, she tripped and fell while running. I thought she was more shocked than hurt - worst case, she had a couple of skinned knees. I calmed her down, though she was still half-crying, and kept her moving so no one had to hear her cry for too long. Here's how the conversation went on the way home:
"What happened?" I asked.
"I tried to stop my feet, but they didn't."
"Oh, no! How did you stop?" I asked her.
"The sidewalk stopped me."
I may have giggled. Even though I don't doubt her knees smart a bit, they were barely scratched. Her arm took the brunt of the fall. I tried to stay calm, but she saw my face when I took a peek. Luckily, she can't see it because the scrape isn't deep, but she has a decent size patch of skin missing. She was very brave while we cleaned it out and bandaged it up. We had some ice cream because, in our house, ice cream makes everything better. We'll see how she does tonight during the bath. I expect it won't go well between the water hitting the wound and the removal of the Band-Aid. When asked, she's already told us she "might" be ok to play in her baseball game tomorrow. I do feel bad, but I told her none of us get out of childhood without a couple of scraped knees and elbows. It happens, and it stinks. Also, now she knows not to run on the curbs because some lessons you learn the hard way.
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