Bruises

Last evening I sat on the couch with my little on in my lap. She was crying and trying to overcome the trauma of falling, which she does about ten times each day. As I consoled her with hugs and kisses and general momminess, I shared that everyone gets bruises from falling when they are kids.

"Even I got bruises when I was your age." I added.

She looked at me with big, astonished eyes,

"You did? How many?" with such innocence and wonder, it made my heart squeeze. I told her I couldn't remember how many now.

"Two?" she said with those same, big trusting eyes.

"Oh, more than that!" I said.

"Five?"

"More"

"Six?"

"More"

"A hundred?"

"Well, maybe somewhere between six and a hundred," I said.

MiniMe began to think hard. She lost her sweet baby innocent look. She turned to me with a "here's news for you" look on her face and stated,

"Well, I have a hundred, million, billion, eighty nine bruises."

There you have it.

I'm outdone again.