Apparently it's not my child that I should worry about, it's myself.
Recently Moira has been enjoying attempting to climb on things- couch, cushions, etc.. and she also loves to jump up and down in her crib or on the couch or our bed.
This morning as I was attempting to make our bed, Mo was trying to climb up on the bed. It's such a rainy, yucky day, so I figured lets play and joke around a bit. We're laughing, she's trying to jump, I'm watching her like a hawk. She will look at herself in the mirror as she jumps and just giggles and giggles.
I, of course, am paranoid that she is going to jump right off the bed. I'm so worried, in fact, that I get a little too close and
BAM!
Her head hits my lip and teeth!
Immediately the tears begin to well in my eyes. I look at her to make sure she's okay, yup, she's fine. I run my tongue over my front teeth. They're all there, accounted for and in the right place. (That's one of those reoccurring nightmares, I have. Loosing my teeth!) Anyway, I go to wipe my lip and see blood.
I head downstairs, with Mo in tow. Throw on Yo Gabba Gabba and check out the damage in the mirror.
I've got a fat lip! NICE!
I hope the swelling goes down in time for Bry's cousin's shower this weekend. The last thing I want to explain is my huge upper lip and the soft hum of gossip over whether it's lip injections or spousal abuse.
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