Sincerest apologies for my absence over the weekend. Yes, I know it throws a wrench in my NaBloWriMo goal of one blog post per day during the month of October. But I am, foremost, a father and husband, and often find being both requires no small amount of time away from my electronicals.
For the purposes of this blog, let's call my three children Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod. They are 12, nearly 6, and newly 4, respectively. To say we have a busy household is a vast understatement, but all three are generally well-behaved children, unique in their own special ways, and unstoppably adorable.
Blinkin is a curious child. Not curious in the sense of, I have no idea what's going on in that little head of hers. (In fact, she's so much like me, I'm pretty sure I always know what she's thinking.) She is curious in the sense that she enjoys exploring and pushing boundaries, physical or otherwise.
This is generally a plus; she's a great problem-solver and beautifully creative. The down side is that, while engaged in her various explorations, Blinkin tends to lose track of her surroundings.
This happened on Saturday morning when, while playing with Winkin, she temporarily forgot she was on Earth... and that Earth has gravity... and that floors are hard. She slipped and fell face-first onto our living room hardwoods.
This is not the first time she has suffered a facial injury while playing. Last year, Blinkin turned to run during a game of Tag and immediately connected with a window. The resulting golf ball-sized knot above her eye necessitated long bangs and excessive hat-wearing, both at her request. I wouldn't go so far as to say she's accident prone, but they certainly know where to find her.
Saturday's busted lip injury wasn't all that bad, actually. It gave off very little blood, and, while significantly swollen, turned out to be a fairly minor injury. She barely cried. When my wife returned from her sewing class, she praised my triage skills. (Being married to a nurse certainly has its benefits.) She also praised Blinkin for being a good little patient. Indeed, by the time Mrs. Kozicki got home, Blinkin was already back in good spirits and playing once again.
It dawned on me later in the day that I suffered a similar injury when I was 5 years old, too. Although, granted, my case involved an older brother forcibly introducing me to the corner of a piano bench. Still, the whole situation was terrifying. I have memories of being held down on an operating room table while a doctor sewed up my lip, all the while cracking lame jokes with a chef hand puppet.
You might think I'm making that last part up, but there are pictures.
Unlike my experience, Blinkin handled hers with aplomb. She has always been brave about bumps, bruises, shots, and all the various harassment that tends to exist amongst siblings. I respect that about her, and love her all the more for being such a great kid and not making Daddy freak out under pressure.
The balance of my weekend was spent hanging out with Blinkin, reading books, coloring, playing games, all the while enjoying her unique humor. She might be a brave, creative, and goofy 5 year-old, but she's still a 5 year-old. When kids that age are hurt, for whatever reason, they tend to enjoy the security and comfort of being with Dad the most. At least Blinkin does, and that's OK by me.