She wouldn't let me take a photo.
But since this is kind of a babybook for the kids, I had to log this event in: Jo was on the playground and a little boy accidentally bashed into her, causing her to slam into a metal jungle gym. What started off as a heinous bruise - the nurse called, I took her home to give her medicine and ice - grew bigger and bigger. The entire side of her cheek blew up like a balloon - and I ended up taking her to the ER.
The ER doctor was impressed. "I haven't seen anything this swollen in all my 20 years," he said. But if there is a break - and we still don't know - it's not a bad one, one that would have required an MRI that night. We were told to wait till the swelling went down. Her cheekbone might be fractured, we may need a plastic surgeon - or she may be fine. We still have yet to know.
But poor girl, even as the swelling has gone down, the purple, blue, brown, and black has shifted around within her face and settled around her eye, making her look like she got in a bad bar fight. She's been scared to see her own image in the mirror, and terrified of other kids seeing her and "not liking it."
The accident happened Thursday. By Sunday, she was feeling well enough that she'd started in on her acrobatic hijinks - balancing on her head, standing on top of precarious things, hanging upside down - things she's not allowed to do when she's well let alone still puffy and healing.
Saturday in the bathtub, she was obviously back to her philosophical self: "Mama," she mused, "We're not replaceable, are we? We can't be replaced when we die. Except maybe by little kids. Or a doll."
My sweet girl. She's back at school today. She's so brave.