Scars
The evening of her first birthday, Brett’s face met up with what I from then on called “that damn stupid wooden thing.”
Literally two seconds after I snapped that photo, The Girl toddled over to That Damn Thing and crashed.
It wasn’t her first injury and it definitely won’t be the last. But it’s the first scar that precious skin received.
And it’s just one of about 60,000 on my heart.
