In the past six weeks Emma Vance has gone from a sweet, quiet, calm little immobile bundle of joy to a…well, to a funny, chatty, boisterous, super-mobile little bundle of joy. This newfound road to adventure, although both wonderful and exciting, has not been a road without bumps…
…and bruises. LOTS of bruises.
I can proudly say that our little lady has no fear of the world around her and no self-doubt when it comes to her capabilities; however, unfortunately her equilibrium and coordination aren’t quite on board yet. Two days ago E.V. pulled herself up on a bookshelf, and as I looked on proudly, she thumbed through a few books, threw a few decorative objects to the ground (their rightful place of course) and cruised a few feet along the piece of furniture–all before tumbling face-first into the bookshelf corner. Ouch. She screamed bloody murder, and I ran to comfort her. The tears were fleeting, but the damage? Well, let’s just say the bookshelf fought back. Against her face.
When Ryan saw his precious daughter with a giant knot on her forehead, scrape on her cheek, cut on her eye and bruised black eye, he naturally inquired as to what happened to her. I thought I might joke that I gave her the ol’ one-two for misbehaving, but though I’d better be honest with him: “The Baby Mafia roughed her up a bit.” (That’ll teach her not to be a snitch next time. Ha!)