First Daughter took a tumble by the futon today (which she claims was initiated by a push from her brother, but I didn't see it). Normally, it would have been nothing but a little bump, but she fell on an upside-down toy that dug right into her head and started bleeding like mad. I cleaned her off so I could take a look and immediately called Kansas Dad to ask him to run home. (I'm not that great with bloody messes, but I also thought she should go to have stitches or something. It looked big and bad.) After calling him, I decided I wanted to go along so I quickly woke up Second Daughter, got the bag packed, cleaned up as much of the blood on the carpet as I could and then let Kansas Dad convince me (intelligently, though I hated to hear it) that I should stay home with the other two and let him take her alone. When I said I wanted to be with her, he answered, "I'll take care of her." And I knew he would.
So off they went to the emergency room where she emerged two hours later with staples in the back of her head and instructions to go to the doctor to have them removed in seven to ten days.
I know I cried more than she did, worried about how she was doing (absolutely fine, enjoying movie after movie on her dad's laptop and a certain fast food treat provided by Grammy) and blaming myself (knowing I really could not have prevented it, or at least, I can't prevent every injury).
I'm sure we'll both feel better in a few days.
