So, Monday morning Tim was getting ready, and Ellie headed down the hallway to see him, muttering "dah dah dah dah dah" as she does, to spite me. So I went to make breakfast. A couple of minutes later I hear her crying, and the "I'm hurt!" cry, not the "why aren't you holding me? You don't need to be putting on pants!" cry so I head down the hall to find her in the bathroom, and Tim right behind her. He hadn't seen what happened, and Ellie stopped crying a few seconds after I scooped her into my lap, but then I pushed up her bangs and Tim and I both freaked out, watching the gigantic goose egg raise on her head. As far as we can figure, she must have fallen into the corner of the shower tile. Learning to walk is a full contact sport!Funny (but not really funny haha): on Friday at mom class we'd been talking about the symptoms of concussions, since many of the babies are getting mobile and boinking their heads, so I at least knew right away that Ellie did not need to go to the hospital. Getting her to hold still so that I could try to ice her bruise was a different story.
Poor thing - it hasn't seemed to bother her or slow her down at all, but I feel like a real heel when I'm out in public with her, my beautiful girl with her beautifully colored bruise.
Now we just have to hope that it goes away before Christmas, so we don't have to remember it in photos for years to come.
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