Norah started preschool yesterday. The place she's going (where Gabe's been for the last year and a half) allows 2 1/2 year olds, so they kept an open spot through the fall semester so she could join this spring. This is super good as she's been a real pill every Tuesday/Thursday when I've had to drop Gabe off and she's had to spend her mornings with me. Plus, it means I'll get a couple hours to myself every week, which can only improve my sanity.
Not surprisingly, the day started off a bit shakily. While we were rushing around, trying to get everything in order--gathering all of their stuff and getting some dishes and laundry going and doing all the other things that we generally do early in the morning to make the rest of the day go by with as few snags as possible--she managed to mangle her upper lip. Nobody knows what she did, and she wasn't able to fill in any blanks in the details either.
More or less, as I was putting dishes away, she walked into the kitchen with a stunned look on her face. She had her hand up to her mouth so I couldn't immediately see what the problem was. Then she pulled her hand away and looked at it. It was full of blood, as was her shirt sleeve. And when she saw it, all hell broke loose.
She shrieked and started vigorously rubbing her face with her hands and sleeve to try and get the blood off--which, clearly, was a terrible idea, but there's no telling her what the sensible thing to do is.
After a time, Libby was able to staunch the flow of blood (Norah wanted nothing to do with me stopping it, since there were plenty of other people in the house to choose from and I am always her last choice if she's given one) by putting a band-aid on her upper lip. It was the only way she could apply any sort of pressure to stop the bleeding.
I'm afraid we really dropped the ball on the picture taking with the bandaid. She's wearing it here, but the picture just doesn't do it justice.
Eventually, Libby had to take the band-aid off, which was a bit problematic. It was stuck pretty good. Onto her upper lip and a pretty fresh flesh wound. There was screaming and more blood. But it stopped more quickly this time and Norah went about playing with the dollhouse here. Gabe came over for a bit and helped her out, but didn't stick around too long.
I asked Gabe after school how Norah did on her first day. He said she did pretty well, but I'm not sure by what standard he was grading her performance. After a bit more pestering, I learned that she pretty much spent her entire morning sitting at this dollhouse, only being pried away a couple times for group activities. Why she has such a fascination with this dollhouse, when we have one here at home that's just about as big and has even more stuff, is one of those questions for the ages. Different is always better, I guess. Also, that's my crotch in the background. You're welcome.
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