This morning, Naomi fell down the stairs that lead up to our 2nd floor apartment.
And by fell, I mean somersaulted.
I literally saw it happen in slow motion.
One little trip and then like a stunt man, down she went.
I was at the top of the stairs, holding Noelle and our bags, and there was nothing I could do but watch her roll, bump and thud all the way the down. It's a sick feeling.
Thankfully, she was already a third way down the stairs when it happened and didn't land fully on her head. A bloody elbow, a scrape on her head and hip, but nothing that a few gigantic mommy hugs and a big band-aid couldn't fix.
THANK YOU GOD!
Well, come dinner time, the girl is ready to go and full of energy, like nothing happened.
So I've decided to nickname her "Wolverine". (If you've seen X-Men, this makes complete sense - if you haven't, then yes, I'm a weirdo who names her children after hairy beasts.)
Here are a couple of shots of my little fountain-of-youth from this evening...
(Tim took them around the block so that I could cook in blissful silence - a HUGE help.)