The 4th.

Yay, we officially made it through the Fourth of July without losing (or almost losing) any fingers. 

Last year, we weren't so lucky.

Our poor little girl. She was just playing with the pots on the open shelving six inches off the ground. We had just gotten home from a beautiful walk around the neighborhood. It was time to cook dinner. K was a couple feet away when H started screaming. The blood and fingertip that was hanging on by a thread took K by surprise. H had knocked over the smallest pot. The knurled edge of it landed perfect on the first tiny, tiny knuckle of her middle finger.

I was still down in the garage, putting away the stroller. K yelled down the stairs to me, 'We need to go now!' We rushed to the ER only a mile away, K in the backseat holding the piece of H's finger tight. The two of them spent the next few hours in the ER (which was surprisingly quiet). 

When I got home with S I immediately took all the pots off the open shelf and shoved them in the drawer under our cooktop.

S made a little decoration for his baby sister.

It was a slightly traumatic evening. In the end, H recovered and all was okay. The pots are still in that drawer, replaced with plastic containers and lids.

This year was much more relaxed. No trips to the ER and we all still have ten fingers.