Mayzie fell and punctured her neck on a stick at a father’s day barbeque. Thankfully, though it looked horrible, it was superficial so we didn’t need to rush to the ER. We cleaned it and put a bandaid on it and when we got home I cleaned it out more thoroughly. (Which was good because I extracted a sizeable piece of grass.) Tried to close it up with a butterfly but that didn’t work. Same with steri-strips. The location on her neck made it impossible to tape shut; it needed glue. Because it was 9pm and she was exhausted we decided to throw a bandaid on it and wait to take her in until the next day. Everything looked good, so the Dr. washed it again and put some glue on it to close it up a little better. Should be good as new in a week. Hooray!
I’m still amazed with Mayzie’s strength. When it happened, she calmly walked over to Sheelagh and said, “I think something’s wrong with my neck.” She cried a little bit after that, but it was more from embarrassment that it happened than from pain. She was brave and strong each time we washed it out, even when I used hydrogen peroxide, and especially when I had to use tweezers to pull out the piece of grass.
She’s eight today, and it’s hard for me to believe it. I’ve thought of her as eight for months now, so it’s hard to believe that she’s only just turning. She’s a voracious reader; she devours chapter books in a single sitting. She’s an awesome big sister, taking special care of little David. She’s responsible; I know if I leave her in charge for a couple minutes, things won’t immediately go to hell. And to top it all off, she’s in like the 90th percentile for height for her age, so it’s hard to remember she’s still so young.
But I’m trying. I’m savoring the snuggles she still loves to give and get, enjoying that she still likes being chased around the house and yard, and that she relishes spending time with me. I know she’ll be all grown up before I know it, so I’m trying to savor these years. I hope that more often than not, I can just allow her to be a kid.