Last week we had our streets repaved.  They look beautiful, all clean and dark...  smooth...  at least I thought they were smooth.  They looked smooth.  However, when my little one stepped outside and saw her big brothers riding around having fun on their bikes, she wanted in on the fun!  So, she grabbed her tiny baby-doll stroller and started to be on her way...

So cute and so bouncy.  Little curls bumping up and down with each step she took.  A smile that stretched from ear to ear.  I grabbed the camera to snap a few photos for grandma, but was interrupted by a cry - then another cry!  My little princess fell.  Then my youngest son fell.  Not a big deal for my little girl, she falls a lot these days (she's 18 months), but my youngest son?  Well,  this beautiful new street of ours was not as smooth as it looked.  The covering left little black rocks poking up like needles.  Everywhere I looked, there they were...  shinny little pointed rocks!  My son's knee looked like my girls knee...  cut straight across perfectly, bleeding. 

My little one has never had a "cut" before.  So, the blood caused some real tears to stream down her cheeks.  Needless to say, I took her inside and washed off the cut (my son wiped his cut off with his hand and got back onto his bike).  I then placed the bandage on her knee and gave her some sugar (don't ask my why I gave her sugar...  it's what my mom used to do for me).  Everything was fine until the bandage kept bring back those memories.  After about the fifth time of tears and the googily story (toddler language) about what had happened, I ended up taking the bandage off.  No more tears. I guess my little one is not a bandage girl...   but one thing for sure - I think she's going to be a drama queen