I hear the pitter patter of tiny (giant) toddler feet across tile and before I can get out the "be careful" there is the unmistakable sound of the safe-at-second-base-slide across the tile. The thud that follows is probably a tiny little person bouncing bum first off the floor. She pauses for a second before she cries and I know what's next before I round the corner.
There are 3 stages on the scale of toddler owie.
Stage 1 is the brush it off stage and usually involves doing something silly that involves bonking your head or stubbing a body part that is easily laughed about or brushed off. These are cured (in Layla's case) with physically pretending to brush it away.
Stage 2 is the kiss it away stage. Kiss it owies usually involve stepping on something pain full, small cuts and scratches and bumps hard enough to knock your wind out but not so hard to leave a bruise. These are cured (in Layla's case) with mommy puckering up and kissing toes, fingers or knees that are then magically cured by love.
Stage 3 is the medical intervention needed owie. These can't be cured by human hands...you've got to cry it out while Mommy and Daddy decide between band-aids, tylenol and runs to the same day care. These are rare (in Layla's case) most of them are eventually ended by a distraction of sugar/movie and actual medical attention.
We were flat in stage 2 when the head hit tile though. I could tell by the type of cry. It's the embarrassed with a side of mild pain cry that all moms can detect from anywhere within 50 ft as a sign they are about to pucker up to something.
I kissed her head and her feet (because they had wounded pride I guess) and then we made dinner.
If only I could always cure what ails her so easily... if only my touch and my lips could heal her forever...magically.