Broken finger

Last month, two days before A started Kindergarten, I accidentally shut her left pinky finger in the car trunk door. I cannot even begin to explain the horror and guilt I felt. Maybe I don't need to, as I've learned since then that an uncanny number of parents have, at one time or another, inadvertently done something equally horrible to their own children.  This didn't help me feel better, but it did help me feel less alone.

Possibly the only good thing that came from this event were these very cool (and expensive) x-ray photos:

We couldn't tell where the finger was broken, but apparently it had a small fracture and had to be kept in a splint for two weeks. 

I learned a very important lesson about how I should never openly chastise myself and call myself the worst mother ever to friends while A is in ear shot. I learned from her kindergarten teacher that on the very first day of school, as the class was lining up to walk to the classroom, A announced that she had "the most horribleist mom ever" because she shut her finger in the door. That night when I explained to A that I really did not think that I was the worst mom ever, I saw her shoulders relax and a look of relief spread across her face. "Really Mommy? You really don't think so?" "No, Addie" I said. "I think that I'm actually a good mother, I just made a very big mistake". 

Fortunately, we have many chances to learn from those mistakes.