Thursday, July 19, 2018

I love you mucher

Quinn fell today. She was scootering lightning fast down a hill in our neighborhood that T and Evie have rightly named "The Hot Wheel Track" and in the sincerest effort to keep up with those brothers of hers she lost track of her speed on a particularly rough patch and did a full flip in the air before sliding down the sidewalk and slamming her face into the handlebar, and then the cement.

She immediately started screaming and crying in pain and if you know her then you know this was a big fall, because Quinn's no sissy and neither blood nor bruise usually incite any reaction besides an "I'm OK" and business as usual. The boys were just ahead of her, Coco and I just behind, and within seconds she was scooped into my arms as I tried to assess the damage, a brother doting on her from each side. Even with blood streaming down her cheek and rocks cutting through her knee she was up within minutes to walk her scooter the mile back to our home. I kept looking at her scuffed up kitty helmet bravely bouncing just ahead of me and thinking, "You are the strongest girl I know." She really is. And that was before I knew the full extent of her owies. When we were a few blocks from our home she started whimpering in pain about her bum hurting and within seconds of being home she stripped down to her underoos to reveal the gnarliest road rash across her thigh any little Wig has ever known. It was around that time that I also noticed the bleeding under her eye was nothing to the bruising above and her knee was so raw that she sobbed while getting it washed. Calm as a cucumber on the outside, I was dying on the inside for the pain I would have gladly taken from her.

The good news is she's OK, really she is. When I saw her head bang against the scooter I thought she may have knocked her eye straight out of it's socket. In an instant I imagined rushing her to the ER, explaining the accident a million times, forever apologizing to Quinn that I wasn't there to catch her horrible fall. And while that may sound dramatic, it's nothing but truthful. But she kept her eye, even if it's sure to turn black, and after holding some ice on her boo-boo bum she gave me the most pitiful faker-pants look and said, "I think I need a show to make me better!" That's when I knew the little rascal was going to be juuuuuuuust fine. She cuddled up on my bed with her pink blanket wrapped close and I could have sworn I saw a twinkle in her eye when that Netflix screen popped up. Hey, I guess she earned her screen time today!

There are a few recent Quinnisms that are hard not to adore. She asks us to make her "bweakwast" in the morning and always says she needs to do her "sings" instead of things, and don't get me started about the cuteness that is her singing the Octonauts theme song or how she calls lunch meat "beef turkey." But my absolute favorite thing is that when I tell Quinn I love her, she without fail looks back at me and says, "I love you mucher, Mama!" Not more, not most, but mucher--and it doesn't get much better than that. That phrase, her love, this mother-daughter thing keep circling in my brain today. I'm so lucky to learn from this little lady of only three.

I love you mucher, Quinn, and that's the truth. I'm so glad you're OK.

Proud and gorgeous Quinny still in her jams, excited to show Daddy her chalk art from the night before. This is pre-owie, obviously. Now she's slightly gargoyle-ish!

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