Few things are scarier than having Lilly come downstairs to where I'm washing dishes, and hold up her hand, which has blood smears all over it. There were some on her shirt, too.
I had to remind myself to breathe. She and Patrick had been playing upstairs for the previous ten minutes; I had no way of knowing what had been going on. But nothing had ever gone wrong.
I wet a paper towel and started cleaning off her fingers. When I reached her ring finger, she said ow and pulled her hand away. I realized she'd just picked a hangnail, and it had bled. I started breathing again. And put a bandaid on it.
The funniest moment, though, was when she first came down. Patrick followed, looked at her hand, looked at me, and said, "Strawberries!" I didn't bother to correct him.
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