Sometimes our life as a family feels like a farce. We tried to take the kids out for ice cream after car shopping, as a treat (and incentive) for good behavior. But the napless Riley feel sound asleep on the 8 minute drive to Baskin Robbins (one of the perks of California, Baskin Robbins is almost non-existent in the North East). We tried to wake him up, even the promise of ice cream couldn't get him to keep his eyes open. So I stayed in the car with him while Megan enjoyed a cone of Cotton Candy ice cream, a pink and purple concoction that must have been designed with young girls in mind.
But right around dinner time, Riley suddenly remembered that he had been promised ice cream and his parents hadn't made good. I have to say that Riley has a mind like a steel trap when it comes to treats. He won't remember that crayons belong on paper, but promise him a treat and he will never forget.
Luckily, we still had some ice cream in the garage freezer. And since they must follow me where ever I go, they came into the garage too. And somehow, probably because she has replaced mere walking with jumping, Megan whacked her head on a door knob.
Since head-whacks are fairly common in our house, neither Bryan nor I really blinked an eye. We just got her an ice pack and tried to get her to stop crying. But then Bryan noticed that there was blood on the ice pack. She managed to whack her head hard enough to break the skin.
I have to confess that my first though after this discovery wasn't sympathy for Megan. It was simply a prayer, "Oh God, please don't let it be so bad as to require stitches. I cannot make a third trip to Urgent Care in 10 days."
Thankfully, a little bit a pressure and an ice cream cone did the trick. Both kids were happy and tear-free for the rest of the evening.
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