I am pretty sure that if Payton could talk, she would say this ...
I want to do EVERYTHING my brother does. I think I'm five just like him. I also think I'm a boy and that I can do all the crazy things that boys do. Just.like.him ... just like my brother. I love him after all and I want to be just.like.him.
And if she were to say that, I'd tell her ...
No Payton, you cannot do everything your brother does. He is five and he has two years of gross motor skill on you. He is also a boy and well ... boys are a lot more crazy than girls. So please baby ... PLEASE ... stop trying to do everything he does. You can copy him on most things, but let's stop with EVERYTHING. Okay?
Need an explanation? Haha.
Mason has this little thing he likes to do here at home. I like to call it skidding out. We have some pretty slick hardwood floors and in his spare time, he likes to take off running and skid out ... as if he is sliding into home plate or something.
Somewhere along the way ... instead of looking at him like he is crazy ... Payton decided to join in. So last night they were skidding away, although Payton isn't the most graceful skidder in the world.
Bam ... she slid right into the pantry door and busted open her forehead, right in the exact same area that the guitar assaulted her. Except this time we got a 1/2" wide horizontal gash.
So after a five hour emergency room visit and some more liquid stitches, we were home and nestled in our bed by 12:30 a.m.
This child is quickly following in my footsteps, as I had a few sets of stitches myself as a young child. Then came my arm break and sprained ankles. Ei yi yi ... I hope she starts following someone else's footsteps soon, because I was a disaster of a child.