The kids were giddy and giggly, and running all over the place.
Miles was running in circles around the toy riding pony. June was climbing her favorite rock. We were all enjoying the twirly slide. But then... Miles wanted to follow June to the top of the rocket.
And Mom hovered behind him, watching his jerky balance as he climbed steps taller than his knees. Watching him sway and catch himself, getting ever more nervous. I made a declaration that he could no longer be at the top of the rocket, and carried his screaming-with-protest showing-signs-of-being-way-too-tired self down to the bottom of the rocket.
|I was having fun too, as you can plainly see.|
Then I had to go meet my friend and made my goodbyes, and as I walked away, Mr. Too Tired fell head first (from what I could tell) down the metal spiral staircase that leads up and down the rocket.
Lucky his valiant father was there in a heartbeat, and his mother was there two heartbeats after that.
I scooped his bleeding profusely from the face body into my arms and we carried him home, June happily toted in the much coveted stroller. Not before Adam examined the inside of his mouth to get a look at the injury.
|Top of the rocket ship.|
Weirdly enough, he had already fallen up the stairs on the smaller play structure, cutting his lip slightly that time. I'm not sure if the final injury contributed to the first, or if they were too separate ones.
We brought him home and treated him with baby ibuprofen, a popsicle for the swelling, and lots and lots of love. The swelling was so intense that we thought for sure in the morning we'd get a great fat lip photo - but the swelling had decreased such that it was anticlimactic.
|This is him sleeping that night, you can see the fat lip if you know it is there. And look at those hands!|
I think the trauma was experienced mostly by Adam and I. And as Adam keeps reminding me, this is only the beginning....