I've been doing this long enough to know that it will happen. If I write a thing, I will jinx that thing. It works for the best and for the worst. If I write that Mila slept through the night twice in a row, she won't do it again for a month. On the other hand, if I complain that she hasn't slept through the night in months (TRUE FACT!), the very next night will be a magical night. (PROVE MY POINT, MILA. I DARE YOU.)
Thus, I knew when I wrote that Mila had never needed a Band-Aid, she was going to end up needing one within 24 hours.
As if on cue, I walked through the door the next day and was greeted with a very sad toddler. "Cody knocked me down," she reported.
AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN.
Does Mila know any other words? I'm not really sure at this point because that's all she has said for the past day. Over and over and over "Cody knocked me down!"
I'm don't know if the reason for the repetition is that she's waiting for me to banish Cody to the Sahara desert or if she really thinks I didn't hear her the other 239046234913 times. Maybe both? Or maybe she thinks he should wear a cone of shame for the remainder of his days on this earth? Or maybe she wants him stuffed into a rocket and shot to Neptune?
I don't think that's it. She actually likes Cody. She would miss him if he took a trip to Neptune.
Regardless, Cody knocked Mila over and Mila scraped her knee and WHOA IS ALL OF US. Not just me, all of us. Mila is beside herself with misery. I'm equally miserable because IT'S A SCRAPED KNEE. SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP.
There wasn't even blood, really. The kid doesn't seem to realize that there are rules about these things and the main one is that unless something is broken or shooting out blood, I'm not worried about it. I do not have sympathy for a scraped knee. Just ask the Big Kid. She slammed her finger in the car door a month ago and currently has a fingernail just barely attached to her finger. Like, the whole thing is black and dead and gross and will fall off at any second and my basic response is, "Sucks to be you."
Alexis understands. She is dealing with her disgusting finger without sucking me into her world.
Mila must also learn this skill.
It might have to wait until she's done making everyone carry her everywhere, though. Because unless someone finds that kid a toddler-sized pair of crutches, she's going to be milking this scraped knee situation for as long as possible.
