So yesterday, we were getting ready to leave Charlotte to go back to Durham after a quick one-day visit (to see my dad, who is doing great, btw).
I finish packing the car and head upstairs to get the girls who are playing on my parents’ treadmill. Lucy wants to show me “One More Thing” and she turns to get on the treadmill. Instead, she trips over my mom’s foot and lands face first on the base of the treadmill. Her lip is split wide open and her top front tooth has been pushed back. We get ready to go to the ER when I realize that we’re probably going to wait 5 hours for them to tell me they don’t do anything with split lips. So instead we go to my niece Tess’ pediatrician who sends us to a plastic surgeon. 4 hours later we arrive back at my parents’ house, 8 stitches in Lucy’s lower lip.
It’s heartbreaking. HEARTBREAKING I tell you. And Lucy is definitely discombobulated about the whole thing. But she was a Trooper (with a capital T) yesterday. Very deserving of nothing but popsicles to eat for the next week.
And, hey. We now have the first notch in our totem pole.