We woke up Thursday morning, grabbed Scarlett from her crib, gave her a bottle, perched her on our bed and started to get ready for the day. The calm that was Thursday morning was soon to become chaos as Scarlett decided she had finished her bottle and was ready to climb off the bed, without her parents help. We heard the soft thump of the bottle hitting the ground followed by a loud thud and a screaming baby girl. She had climbed like we showed her off of the edge of the bed, tummy down, but decided to do so between the metal bed side table and the wooden edge of the bed. She was stuck face pressed tightly against the bed, legs crumbled behind her. I scooped her up with tears in her eyes and blood on her face. She had bit her tongue. It was going to be one of those days.
Chris's car was in the shop so I was his designated driver for the morning. During the drive he convinced me to forgo my Thursday laundry day schedule and spend some time outside nurturing our little wounded bud. She needed the extra attention and love after such a stressful morning, and honestly so did I. I took her home, after doubling back to the school to give Chris his keys that he forgot in the car, gave her some breakfast, strapped on her shoes and drove to the park. She fell asleep in the car and surprisingly stayed asleep during the transfer to the stroller. I found a tree, leaned back and started reading. It was a perfect moment. I looked up at the blue sky peaking through the overhead branches, smiled at my daughter peacefully sleeping, and said a thankful prayer as a short breeze whistled past. It was going to be one of those days...and it was, perfect in every way.
