18 months

Yesterday was Lola's half birthday. We commemorated it with a special walk to the park, just her and Archie and I. In my head, I had it all planned out. We would go on a leisurely walk, swing on the swings, slide on the slide, and I would take photos of her in all of her 18 month glory.

Of course, (as the universe likes to remind me), things didn't go as planned.

When we arrived, there was a little girl on the swings. Her dad was pushing her. Within minutes, her dad asked me if I could watch his daughter so he could go play in a pick-up game of basketball.

A stranger asked ME, a stranger, to watch his daughter so HE could play basketball.

I was so surprised, but then I said yes. My response was automatic. I supposed it was because a part of me feared that he would just leave her in the swing, unattended, and play basketball no matter what my response was. Besides, Lola was enjoying the little girl's company, and because Lola is rarely around other toddlers, I wanted Lola to have someone to play with.

Fast forward TWENTY-FIVE minutes.

Lola and Samantha are still playing. Samantha's dad is still playing in the pick-up game. Lola and Samantha are now pushing Samantha's stuffed dog in the swing. Lola steps into the path of the swing.

SMACK.

The swing hits Lola right in the face. She screams and tears race down her cheeks. Blood is everywhere. I grab the bean, assess that the blood is coming from her mouth and sprint to the stroller to grab a wipe to stop the bleeding. After what seems to be eternity, the bleeding stops, and I realize that L cut the underside of her lip. Within minutes, it begins to swell.

A big fat lip on her half birthday. I opted not to photograph the event. Instead, I went home and made a first aid kit for our stroller as I am sure this won't be the last time she will endure an injury at the park.