So on Thursday, just after Marc left for Alaska, the darling girl decided to get out of her seat on the school bus and go exploring. With fun and predictable consequences. She tripped, fell, and cracked her head open when she hit the floor. 911 was called. Paramedics were summoned. Stitches were placed in her adorable forehead.

Did she learn anything from this? Not really. She's almost four. This is the age of discovery. Or, at least it was when I was that young. I was her age when I jumped on my bed and fell, splitting my lip open on the headboard and earning my first set of stitches.

Two days later and she's still running around, climbing the furniture like a little monkey, and getting into everything in sight. It is inevitable. These will not be her last stitches, I'm sure. Just the first set. I did, however, pause at Kmart that night, just outside the sporting goods department. They had little pink crash helmets for sale.

Tempting.

Parents want to protect their kids. The temptation to put them in a bubble is there. We know how many things can go so horribly wrong. The kids don't notice, don't comprehend the dangers, don't really care. They are exploring their new world in all it's wonderful glory.