On Monday we went to Dr. Joe's (just like we do every week, Pinky) and Lily played with Carmella and had a great time. Thad came in and parked his bike against the wall, set his backpack next to it and ran upstairs for his adjustment. Lily was having a blast at our feet and we chatted with some of the other parents. Next thing I know, I look over and Lily is pulling Thad's bike over on top of her. In new mommy fashion, I FREAK and yell "Oh my God, Lily!" as I see my baby girl trapped under this thing. She takes one look at her panicking mom and starts hollering. Mark swoops her up before I can and as I am trying to grab her out of his arms he's calmly saying "Look at her, honey. Make sure she's OK" and all I want is to get her into my arms and nursing as quickly as humanly possible. I finally snatch her away from her very capable father, after determining that she's not broken or bleeding, sit into a chair and get her latched up. She's making all these little sad, scared noises as I whisper "It's OK, Lily" over and over and over...

Finally, she's doing fine, happily nursing and all calmed down. But there's crazy mom, stroking her hair (what there is of it), and still saying "It's OK, it's OK." Had to convince myself. It's funny, 'cause I don't think of myself as an over-protective mom. I let her put all sorts of stuff in her mouth, let her take risks, don't make people wash their hands before they come near her... etc. But the sight of that bike coming down on her, I just freaked. She's getting so mobile, it's only going to get worse. I guess this is where I learn that her responses to the world are often a mirror of my own. Yes, she still would have cried and been scared, but seeing me freak out sent her over the edge. Gotta love nursing, though; calmed us both right down. Ummmm, good hormones.