My hero

I had the audacity to think I could have a shower after Steven got home from work today. I know, crazy idea. Sure enough, half undressed and there's a bloodcurdling scream from the hall. Maia lying on the ground. Lots of blood. Jamie had tried to shut a door when her little finger was in the hinge bit.

Two hospital visits later (local walk-in and then Sick Kids), and she has a probable broken bone and a nasty deep cut just below her pinky's top knuckle. If he'd been a bit stronger, she'd probably lost her finger. Tomorrow morning we have to take her back to the Sick Kids, where a plastic surgeon will clean and stitch her finger back up. Under general anaesthetic. Italics used to show how scared I am.

And she only cried for five minutes. Which is less than I did. She danced around the hospital waiting room, played with all the toys (one handed), shrieked and pointed at the puppies on TV, made friends with an adjacent baby. She's amazing.

Our house looks like the set of Texas Chainsaw Massacre but I'm off to take my shower.

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