The thought

It happened as if in slow motion. I could see the little two year old body as it rolled over the stairs, stopped at the bottom and cried, loudly. Sylvie had fallen.

It started out with tickles and laughter in her room, playing pretend sand castles on the floor of her bedroom. My mother’s words jumped into my head. Any time my brother and I did the same, Mom always said it would end with someone crying. Sylvie and I were just tickling surely.  Nothing could happen. 

Sylvie ran ahead to the stairs as the dog and I followed. I remember thinking that the dog should wait to go down the stairs so as not to trip Sylvie. Then the toddler turned and lost her footing. My mind processed the tumble in slow motion but in reality, the tiny frame quickly hit various places on each step.

Her father scooped her up and he and our daughter checked her out. A large lump appeared almost instantly on her forehead. The hospital was the only option.

I became busy with baby sister, Caitlin which was a good distraction. Every detail is etched in my mind. She smiled her way through her bath and reached repeatedly for the book during story time. She cried a few seconds then quietly watched and listened to the crib toys as I turned out the light. I circled the main floor numerous times, trailed by Georgie, the golden retriever.

Finally they were home and everything was fine. They had to watch Sylvie closely for the next few hours and monitor for the next 72. She was sleepy as it was well past her bedtime. As my husband and I drove home, I was on the verge of tears, felt weak, tired and overcome by the experience. A sudden deep weariness came over me. 

Besides being extra careful around stairs with the kids, the next time my mother's words reverberated in my head, I paid more attention!