I accidentally closed my car door on the tiny hand of my seven-year-old daughter. Thinking fast, my husband picked her up started to carry her back into the restaurant we had just left. Before they got to the entrance, she insisted that he put her down. She quickly pulled herself together and calmly asked for ice when they got inside.
I stayed in the car with my youngest daughter, and when my big girl returned to the car, I was crying and apologizing for having caused her such pain. She was dry-eyed and tried to reassure me with, “That’s okay, Mommy.”
She’s always had a high pain tolerance, but she’s also simply the bravest girl I know. As I inspected her swollen and purple fingers, guilt ate away at me like the Ebola virus.
We took her to an urgent care center where they x-rayed her hand. Fortunately, nothing was broken, and she claimed it was already feeling better, despite how awful it looked. She didn’t complain or make a fuss. I am so proud to call this amazing girl my daughter!