Tonight after I put the 2 younger ones to bed I put Kay to bed. By this point, I was tired and ready to be childless for the evening. It has been a long 3 day weekend and I had a sick child who was sick last weekend too so I was so done. I was looking forward to sitting on the couch just me and my tv. I turned to leave her room and WHACK. Tears filled my eyes and my legs collapsed beneath me. Searing pain filled my body and I started to cry. I just ran my sweet little pinky toe into her door jam. Great.
Kaylee jumped out of her bed and came to my aid. She wrapped her arm around me then said in a voice that sounded eerily familiar...
1) squeeze it, just squeeze it and it will feel better, apply pressure
2) you're fine, what did you do, you're fine
3) see, every time I do that, I tell you it hurts and you don't believe me
At this point, I am laughing. I am laughing so hard that I am trying not to pee. I am still crying mind you and the two actions together don't make a pretty combination. My little toe is still throbbing and I am still squeezing it and the whole apply pressure thing just doesn't seem to be working. Kay continues to console me but is laughing hysterically herself. This of course draws the middle one out of bed to see what all the fuss is about.
As she re-accounts what had just happened to her little brother, I continue to laugh, cry and squeeze. I then have this conversation with myself "wow, I need to be a little more compassionate to her when she hurts herself, well, at least when she stubs her toe on the dumb door. This really, really hurts. And I don't like the way she sounds which is just a mirror of my reaction to her. Ok, lesson learned. And thank goodness I didn't pee!" Then I said out loud through tears and laughing snorts "Everyone back to bed." Then back in my head "And my toe still hurts, it may be broken."