I hear the high chair slide across the tile floor behind me, whipping around just in time to see her hit the floor. Her immediate cries let me know she's probably going to be fine, but will definitely need some comforting.
Scoop up, rub back, allow screams to penetrate eardrums and reach to heart. Not easy watching her endure physical pain, though I am even more fearful of emotional, mental and spiritual pain she will also one day endure. It's can be much more difficult to know exactly how to offer comfort for those situations, and honestly, I know I won't be able to be there for all of them.
I wipe away tears, whispering "you're ok, it's ok...was that a little scary?"
She stops, for a moment. "No, mama, gwig one."
"Gwig one?"
"Yes...gwig one."
"Oh...was it a big scary?"
"Yes, mama, gwig scary."
Moments later, she's back to playing after a discussion about not standing on high chairs, being careful so she doesn't fall. But "big scary" will stick with me.
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