When I go get the girls from school, usually I get #1 first. That’s the routine.
But today before I left work to get them, I got a call that #2 got in a fight. With the ground. Again.
Apparently, she bounced off of a friend and went face first into the ground.
Bloody nose? Check.
Busted lip? Check.
So, instead, I rushed in to get my #2-Bear first. She was doing okay in the room until she saw me, and then she lost it "I fall down. I hurt my lip."
She wasn’t kidding. Her lip? Swollen. Her nose? Bruised and swollen. I’m certain she will have black eyes in the morning. I will probably find myself at the pediatrician in morning, but I’m praying I won’t.
I’m not telling you all this just about her.
What absolutely killed me?
When #2 and I walked into #1’s room, and she saw #2.
#1 rushed over to her sister, and immediately went up to her all sweet and wonderful and obviously in pain because of her sister’s pain and said "Oh, #2. What happened to you? Are you okay?"
While I’m certain there is no way I can capture the look on #1’s face and the tone of her voice, I just want them to know how much my heart broke just then. I never could have imagined the love these girls, sisters, could and would have for each other.
I was trying to be the strong mom that wasn’t too emotional when their baby is hurt. After all, we’ve dealt with three surgeries and a broken leg, but when I saw how concerned her big sister was, I couldn’t help but cry.
My poor #2-Bear. Once again she’s bumped and bruised and still has a beautiful (and silly) smile on her face.
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