Yep... She Sure Did.

Yes, our sweet baby girl broke her humerus {which it's not} last night. I was just finishing up teaching dance when our babysitter brought her in crying. I didn't know what was wrong at first since it wasn't obvious. After asking her what hurts she lifted her puffy, little arm & said, "My arm."

Worst. Blood rushed to my face & water filled my eyes. Hus, Jones, Dot & I immediately headed to our favorite PCH urgent care for treatment. X-rays confirmed our fears & she'll get her cast on Monday.

Two. She's blasted two years old.

In case you're wondering, the culprit is the big hunk of metal in our backyard. She got popped a wee too high on the tramp & landed "twisty" on her arm. The sitter didn't see the spill as her back was turned as she played with Son, but this was the conclusion. Poor, sweet Dot.

She ran around the triage room laughing & singing. The nurses were astounded by how tough she was. I was glad I gave her meds before we left the house because I remember the pain a fractured arm can create {OUCH!} & it was obviously helping her spirits.

So both of our kids have had broken bones before the age of 3. {Son's collar bone 2 days before Christmas. Merry.} I don't like this rite of passage. Perhaps we can figure something else out. Until then, it's Baby Einstein on a loop & plenty of Popsicles.

Posing. She's an angel.

Doesn't she look miserable?

Showing "Lizzy the Lizard" {our "pet" geckos) her broken arm.

Dad saving the day.