Since everyone is sick this week, it made me remember all the times Vash has been hurt. But unlike when he's sick, a kiss will make it all better. While I cried every time he took a hit or tripped, had bled or bruised, he has come out ok and I keep telling myself he always will. Like the time he ran and stepped on a baseball bat, which sent him flying head first onto the concrete patio. Or the time he got a black eye on the brick fireplace when he was learning to crawl. The first time he ever got hurt REALLY badly was when he was about seven months old. He was playing with his crawl through/sing song/ kitchen thing he had gotten for Christmas. He had opened the fridge door and was currently playing with the stove. Since he wasn't fully standing without support I was right there with my hands on his waist. In a moment of pure chance, I took ONE hand off to push my bangs out of my face. In that ONE second he reach for something in the fridge, lost his balance, and his head smashed into the fridge door... Right on the pointy edge. He screamed of course, and I cried as I realized he had a dent in his head. A big one, that turned red, then blue, then swelled to the size of a golf ball. He had stopped crying in the ten minutes it took Daddy to get home, but I cried for almost an hour. Craig assured me again and again that he was ok and didn't need to go to the hospital. The swelling went down and he was all smiles and laughter in no time. But I still cry on the inside when I kiss him good night and see where there is still just the tiniest indentation on the side of his head.
