Nothing can make you cry like the sight of your own blood. And we had crying and blood in abundance tonight after church. Jeff and I lingered in the sanctuary after the service to talk to some friends, while Ruth and Weston went out into the courtyard to play with the other children, just like they always do. Apparently, Ruth was skipping--which is technically not "running," (but is still not on the "Gaits Allowed" list)--when she crossed paths with a boy running the opposite direction. And by "crossed paths," I really mean crossed faces/heads. The force was great enough to knock Ruth to the ground, where she then did a face plant on the tile or on the concrete. My mommy-ears picked up on my child crying and I came to see what the problem was. As I mentioned before, it was just all blood and crying--along with a few hysterical Brazilian women and a cacophony of unintelligable Portuguese. Fortunately, by the natural course of life, she had already lost her two bottom teeth (and hasn't yet fully gotten in her new ones) or the damage would have been worse. She did loosen up a third tooth and cut the gum a bit (thus the bleeding), and she will certainly have a bruised and sore chin/jaw. Overall, though, the dramatics stemmed almost exclusively from the sight of her own blood. Cleaning the spilled blood off her leg and shoe seemed to help more than the ice and Motrin. By the time she went to bed, she had regained her happy face and was already making big plans for what she would eat for breakfast.
What we need around here is a little excitement, don't you think?!
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