Not a Toy for Little Girls

Last night I had some girlfriends over for a rousing round of the highly skilled game, Bunco.  Much fun was had by all, but while I was dividing up the cash prizes to the winners, I heard Lila start screaming upstairs.  I knew she had gotten out of bed to go to the bathroom, so I assumed she was screaming about something totally unimportant like a bug or her pants being on the wrong way.  I continued with my awards, but the screaming got much worse and more hysterical, so I started to head upstairs.  I quickly noticed Lila standing in my bedroom doorway with blood running down her thumb.

Of course I immediately picked her up, ran her into the bathroom, and started cleaning her up and figuring out what happened.  Amidst her sobs she looked at me and said, "Dat is not a toy for yiddle girls!" I noticed that she was gesturing to Johnny's razor. Ah yes, no that is not a toy for little girls.

The sobs continued, but I got the bleeding to stop and convinced her to put a Band-aid on it. I might add here that all my friends are still downstairs, putting this party on the list of "parties where Rachel's kids get really sick/hurt in the middle of the party" like this one.  Anywho, I get Lila, who is still crying, into her bed.  She starts to calm down and then immediately grows hysterical.  "I can't suck my thumb!" Oh crap.  She's hurt her sucking thumb. 

 "Can you suck your other thumb?"

 "No!!!!!"  Hysterical Sob "Go away!"

"You want me to go away?"

"No! I want the owie to go away!"

"Oh honey, I'm sorry.  It will go away soon."

"But I want God to heal it now!!!"

"I promise it will feel better in the morning."

Pause. "Dat is not a toy for yiddle girls."

"Nope."