The Shiner

My daughter has her first shiner.

It’s not a black eye in the traditional sense, really. The bruise is more of a line, which extends from her eyebrow and swings down to the middle of her cheek.

She had been running on the playground next to our house this morning, and I was watching from a short distance away. As she ran toward the metal climbing dome, her back was to me. So I didn’t see where she hit when she fell down, but I saw her tiny feet fail her, and then heard a dull *thunk* as she whacked her head on one of the metal bars.

As my own feet took flight, the internal mommy monologue was going full speed: Oh my God she hit her head it sounded bad she probably has a concussion I have to check to see if her pupils are the same size as soon as I’m close enough…

Violet, in the meantime, stood up, rubbed her head, and started to shriek. I scooped her up and started toward the house, asking if she was alright. Instead of the usual response, “Yes, I fine,” she continued to cry.

Oh my God where is my baby book I’m calling Jerry and we’re going to have a fun family trip to the hospital…

Violet really began to shriek when she realized that we were going inside. She was still upset from having hit her head, but she was not about to let me use her injury as an excuse to cut her outside playtime short.

Ok, calm down, I thought. She didn’t lose consciousness. Give her a few more minutes outside, and see what happens.

We walked to the other little playground area across the street. When we got to the basketball court, I could see the bruise starting to form on her precious little face.

As much as I hate to admit it, I was a bit relieved. I thought she’d hit further up on her head, thereby making the possibility of a concussion far more likely. I’ve already consulted What to Expect the Toddler Years and Baby Center, so I’m going to watch her like a hawk for the next forty-eight hours, just the same.

Curse you, confounded, outdated metal playground equipment.