In which there must be a full moon tonight

This morning, my beautiful boy pitched head first into our bedside table. He caught the corner, right on his cheekbone. In my panic, at first, I thought he’d hit his forehead. Brian thought he’d hit his eyeball. We ascertained it was just below his cheekbone. It didn’t break the skin nor did it knock any teeth loose nor did he break any bones. Basically, he fell in the best possible way. If you can say that when your wee laddie looks like he just got finished with a very brutal, helmets-off hockey game. It could have been much worse. He has a wicked angry-looking large purple bruise on his cheek, a bit of bruising under his eye and a few scrapes.

In less than 2 minutes, he was done crying and off again. Brian was left chuckling “What is that kid’s pain threshold anyway?!” Me? I was busy in the bedroom, crying my eyes out while I made the bed.
Then this afternoon, Anne was horsing around in her chair behind my back. Sure enough, it toppled right over and she landed on her knees on the hardwood floor and cracked her forehead against the wall. Great tears and wailing ensued. (Evidently Joseph likes Anne being hurt even less than he liked being hurt himself.)
After Dr. Mummy checked her out, she picked up her things and the shards of her dignity to retreat to her bedroom. “I need to get in my bed, Mum,” she informed. “I feel better when I have a sleep so I’m gonna have a sleep.”
They both napped all afternoon. I checked on them frequently, still worried about concussions. But they woke up, three hours later(!), refreshed. They look a fright – bruises everywhere! – but they have calmed their hearts.
And me?
I kind of still want to go back to bed and have a good cry myself.

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