"Aiiii *sob* wannalea *SOB* ovdah!"
I can’t tell what Boobaby wants, but the word "want" is definitely in there. "What do you want, honey?" Secretly, I’m thinking that she can have anything she wants short of the car — anything to ease her evident pain.
Five minutes ago she smashed her fingertip between two rocks, and she’s still alternately sobbing and panting. In hindsight, "Let’s be Alex Van Halen!" with rocks and sticks in the backyard was probably not the best idea immediately before naptime. She could hardly keep her eyes open, but I didn’t have the heart to interrupt her killer solo until I heard that sickly thud of a rock-finger-rock sandwich.
Again: "AIIII *W-A-A-H* WANANANANAAALEA *SOB-B-B-B* OVDEAH!!!"
I still don’t know what it means.
I checked for breaks and found nothing more than a little swelling under the nail, which we got under control with our old friend boo-boo bunny. I’ve hugged and cuddled and bandaged, but she primarily needs to sleep, so I’ve changed and bejammaed her and now I’m holding her loosely, letting her cry and flail. I offer her a bottle, but no, again, she shouts through tears:
"I WANNA LEAPOVDEF!"
Finally, I get it. To translate: "I want a leap of death." That’s the term (stolen from Mike) for the death-defying jump off the changing table into daddy’s waiting and swinging arms. In my haste to, you know, comfort her, I’d forgotten to accommodate Boobaby’s inner daredevil, who couldn’t care less about a minor finger injury. The changing-table swan dive is not to be omitted from the nap ritual, no matter what.
So she got her leap of death and was immediately laughing again. Her tears didn’t exactly vanish, but they did go just around the corner to hide, peeking out only briefly every few minutes until Boo fell asleep a little later.
The storm is over, and I’m alone.
You know how they say "Anything that doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?"
Well, to hell with that. I’ve got that chalky taste of guilt in the back of my mouth at having been not quite astute enough to keep Boo from harm. I’m proud at the way she overcame the pain and frustration, but you know, if there were a button to make her never experience any pain in her life, I’m not sure that I wouldn’t press it.