E.R.

Right.

Where were we?

Oh, yes.

So, Friday afternoon, Ainsley was sitting at the table and grabbed hold of this:

And sprayed herself in the face with it. *sigh*

We made a half-hearted attempt to rinse her eyes out. We put her in the bath and dumped water over her head.

But, as her eyes took on a shade that closely resembled that of the cleaner, we decided to run to the urgent care. At 7:52. 8 minutes before they close. (Yep, we're those people. The annoying ones that show up right before you lock the door.)

The doctor at the urgent care took a glimpse at her red, puffy, and weepy eyes and referred us here:

Lovely. (It is here that I am going to tell you that not two days before, Dave said "You kids better start getting sick! We have flex-plan dollars to use!" Thanks, Dave.)

So, at around 10:00 pm Ainsley and I troop into the Emergency Room and look for a section that looks the least germy. We settle in for a good.long.wait. But it was not without it's benefits. While Ainsley was turning intently through the only children's book in the lobby, Children During the Great Depression, I had time to people watch. My favorite? A very pregnant woman in labor came in with her husband, her parents, her in-laws, her grandparents, and SIX suitcases. They didn't just need a wheelchair, they needed a bellhop.

I snorted as I remembered the last time I came through these emergency room doors with Ainsley; I was on a gurney holding my newborn wearing nothin' but a sheet. Ainsley seemed to flash me a knowing look. It's a great shared memory we have.

When we were finally put in a room, our doctor walked in. Huge. At least 8 months pregnant, and exhausted. She told me she had a two year old, too. She asked what happened. I explained. Then she said off hand, "You know, I think having kids makes me a better E.R. doctor. Before I had kids, people would tell me what their kids had done and I'd think 'Nice parenting!' Now? I just nod and say 'Don't worry about it. Totally been there.'"

It was nice to know that I wasn't being judged.

I'd rather be the one doing the judging, thank you very much.

In the end, all is well. Ainsley is none the worse for wear. Her eyes have resumed their usual hue. But the pretty pink cleaner now has a new home. On top of the fridge.