Blood.

Today in my teenage angst, my french professeur asked me if I am Morrocan. That has nothing to do with this post, but it just happened. And it was weird. So I wanted to tell you.

The actual post is really about blood. See, it's about my little niece. See below.

She's seven months old now. And she's obviously the number one. Look at her. She's developed this hilarious forced smile when a camera is shoved in front of her face. See middle bottom. Hahaha. It's like when eight year old girls do tap routines at their year end dance recitals. It's just so forced.

These pictures are on Tuesday, when her best ever mom (aka my bff) decided an impromptu university visit was in order. Then on Thursday, Suzy was coming for a visit and who should end up coming along but Karlie and the Paisley! I like to call her 'the' Paisley because a) she's the only Paisley I know and b) she's really the only one that matters.

So we go over to the coffee shop and the lighting was really bad, so I didn't get any pictures of her. Which is a first for any of our interactions. Beth (my sis) held her for a good little while and then I got her. She kissed me. With her mouth open. It was kind of weird. We hugged. It was nice. Then she grabbed my nose. She grabbed. Dug in her tiny little nails, with her tiny little fingers and then she pulled her hand off my nose with surprising force.

Suzy saw it. Karlie was ordering coffee. I touched my nose. There was blood. She drew blood!

There was clearly no malice intent. She's seven months old. Noses are the best thing ever for her. They're just there for grabbing! But in the next few seconds when she was standing and holding the table, she tipped away from me, as I tried to prevent her from stuffing her mouth full of saran wrap, and in the process of falling, I tried to catch her. And in the process of trying to catch her, she bumped her nose on the chair. I've noticed that for a lot of kids, bumps like this take a second to set it. There was no refractory period for Paisley. It was bump and cry. Now, not only was this sad, because she was crying, though no actual tears were shed, but it looked like I had exacted my revenge!

As if. As if I would exact any sort of revenge on a seven month old. And it wasn't as though I actually thought Karlie actually thought I had done it on purpose. It was that I thought Paisley thought I had hurt her on purpose. I don't think she's able to make this kind of cognitive connection yet, but it freaks me out that there could be a point at which Paisley could ever look at me and hold me responsible for anything other than being awesome and loving her more than life itself.

Paisley, I hope that by the next time I see you, this wound will have healed and you will not remember. I hope we can return to our previous relationship; the one where your nose was never bumped. We needn't erase your fault though - scratching my nose that is - because you're seven months old; and I'm not sure you have any faults yet.