It happened. I knew it would. I’ve said so in previous posts. I sat next to Violet as she played on the floor, and, as so many guilt-ridden parents have said before, I turned away for just a second. She made a slight movement toward me, and she was off balance, falling mouth-first into my knee. I felt it and heard it, a hard hit. There was no need to wait for a reaction, her eyes immediately pinched shut, a crimson flush flooded her face, and her mouth opened with the most horrible of all children’s cries, the silent, wide-mouthed howl. I picked her up and held her until she started breathing and her cries were audible. I pulled back to look, and saw, for the first time (and I’m sure it won’t be the last), Violet’s blood. Just a slight trickle on the center of her lower lip, but enough to make me want to call Child Protection on myself.
She’s fine, of course. Her smile was back in less than a minute, and the blood stopped soon after. No big deal, right? Just one of the many bumps and scrapes inevitable at this age. But what made my guilt linger was the small part of me that thought, "Hey, now I have a post for tonight!" and regretted not taking a picture. Maybe it’s good that this blog’s almost complete.