Goose Egg (or, when I wanted to slug the little four year-old who pushed my baby onto cement)

Today started out as a good day, until I decided to take the kids to storytime. Over the course of three or four songs and a few books, Anika demolished a cracker, ate a banana, and ran about six laps around the library. (I know you're not supposed to have food in libraries, but you're not supposed to scream, either, and it was the lesser of two evils.) Meanwhile, Reni filled his diaper, complained, then ate, then complained some more, then spit up all over one of my friends who was kind enough to offer to hold him while I went to the Science Fiction section to locate Ani.

So much for storytime.

Not sure why I followed this grand idea with a picnic in the nearby park, but all was going well until Anika befriended a group of slightly older girls who were running laps around the basketball court like grayhounds. All it took was one moment when Ani stood still and was crashed from the back from a racing girl. I saw her, in slow-mo, open her mouth in amazement as she slammed forehead to cement. She screamed for at least 20 minutes, while we all watched in horror as the goose egg grew in size and saturation (current color: purple; forecast: green) and my friend who is a PT tried to get a good look at Anika's pupils to rule out a possible concussion.

Lots of ibuprofin, several failed attempts at icing the bump, and as much candy as she wanted ensued for the rest of the day. She seems ok, although she keeps pointing to her forehead and saying "owie" or "hurts" or "hot." I've never wanted to take away someone's pain as much as I want to take away this lump from her head.