Two time's the charm

The other day I was telling Grace about how, sometimes, there are girls on football teams. "Really!" she replied, excited. This morning she showed me her big muscles, and made me squeeze them, just to be sure I got her point. I got the point alright. Grace has no fear, or understanding of her body's abilities.

Point in fact: Two weeks ago she was sporting TWO black eyes. Eye #1: We're at Costco and I'm trying to get Grace to stay by the cart, amongst millions of shoppers. "Get over here, Grace." I yell as I am reaching out to grab some milk. Next thing you know, smack. Grace comes catapulting into the glass door, and it's handle, and I'm too busy getting milk to realize the damage. She's crying, and her eyebrow is bleeding. I search my overly crowded purse for a napkin or something, find an old wipe, and hold it on her cut till it stops bleeding. Luckily, it didn't look like a stitches situation. Next day, black eye (plus cut). Eye #2: Four days later, I'm upstairs trying to get hair and makeup looking presentable. I can hear the girls laughing and eating afternoon snacks together, but I still keep my ears open for what trouble could be happening the two seconds I'm gone. Exactly two seconds later, I hear a loud bellow, which I know belongs to Grace, and I wait two more seconds to understand whether it's a happy bellow or an unhappy bellow. It's an unhappy one. As I make it down the stairs, I'm met with a crying Grace and an already purple eye. Aliza proceeds to tell me that somehow Grace fell off our heavy, wooden bar stools and then it fell and hit her in the face. Ouch. Thus, eye #2.

Her drama never lasts, though. She spent the rest of the week proudly telling all she saw about how she got her black eyes and then would laugh. No harm done.