Ada tripped outside today and scraped her knee a bit. Really just a graze. She totally flipped out and flew into a fit of hysteria that lasted much too long for anyone's taste. She wouldn't take a single step. When we got upstairs, she continues to scream as I treated the scrape with neosporin and a bandage. That usually does the trick, but, this time, even that didn't cut it. She insisted on being carried around all evening and talked in this pathetic little voice as if to say, "Can't you see that I'm wounded and need extra attention?" (For those of you ready to call ACS and report me for child neglect, I did trick her into taking some steps and putting weight on her legs. She was fine.) Seriously, if ever I saw such a drama queen...!
When I recounted my tale to my mom she had no sympathy for me. She said that I had been just like that. She distinctly remembers a time when I cried and carried on for over an hour in the car on the way home from some trip because I said my knee was hurting so badly from a fall. When we finally got home and I pulled off my tights, I stopped crying and started giggling in relief. "Look, Mommy! There's no blood!" My pain had miraculously dissipated.
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