When Clothes Talk

When we picked Camille up from baby school today, she was wearing a fresh outfit and the clothes we’d put on her this morning were wrapped in a plastic bag. This is not unusual. She loves to play with her food and her milk, so she often requires a wardrobe change at some point during the day.
Last week, she was promoted to the next class at baby school. One of the biggest changes is that this class usually takes a trip to the playground twice a day. Last week, those trips were rained out, so this is really her first week to explore this new territory.
Apparently, it was quite an adventure. Once we got home and I opened the plastic bag, this is what I found:
I’m not sure what this means. Either she rolled around in the dirt and had so much fun, or she fell a lot on the uneven turf and resorted to crawling around. Or maybe those two things don’t have to be mutually exclusive. I’d like to think these dirty clothes are evidence of a baby who played hard and had fun.
She’s walking so well now – most of the time. But like all babies, gravity still gets the best of her occasionally. We have been taking an evening stroll most nights lately, and usually let Camille get out of the stroller and walk around when we get to one of our central neighborhood parks. She loves this, and when she first spots the park as we approach, she starts reaching her hands out to it, kicking her feet and getting excited. Tonight was no different – in fact it was even better than usual because there was another child playing on the sidewalk and a DOG! And a BALL! Camille was happily toddling around when she stumbled and fell. She started to cry, and when she lifted her head there was blood on her lip. I was calm, hoping she’d just scraped her lip a little, but her Daddy scooped her up and the bleeding got worse and worse. There was so much blood that I wasn’t very calm anymore.
That was a long walk home. We never did see exactly where she hurt herself, and all of her 6 teeth still appear to be intact. I think she may have bitten down on something in her mouth – a cheek, a gum, something. But she was so upset, and even though I realized she wasn’t in mortal harm, I don’t ever want to see my sweet girl covered in her own blood.
She’s sleeping now, thank goodness, and I hope she wakes up tomorrow and forgets it all ever happened. I hope when we take our walk, she’ll still be excited to scramble out of her stroller and try out her legs. I know bumps and scrapes and even a little blood are part of being a kid, so I guess incessant worry is part of being a mom too.