My little chicken is brave. Stella got hurt not once, but twice at this morning's play date. My friend said, "She gets hurt every time I see her." And it's true. She's sneaky, fast, and quiet, and if I turn my back for a second she's gone. First she fell off the trike onto the cement, and then she walked up in front of a kid swinging and got pushed onto the ground onto her back. She cried so hard she fell asleep in my arms.
I also 'lost' her at B&N the other day when I turned my back and she was gone. I started thinking someone picked her up and went running through the bookshelves yelling her name, and I found her looking for me when I turned a corner. I burst into tears and scooped her up. I would die if I lost her.
She has a scar on her eyebrow bone from a fall on cement stairs and another below her eye from a fight with her brother. The other day she climbed the coffee table, fell off, and tore her upper frenulum, bleeding from her mouth. It took everything to keep my composure.
She is going to give me a heart attack at a young age, that girl.