Gray climbed over my legs while we were on the floor playing and grinned up at me. I noticed something over his right eye but had to take him over by our sliding glass door for better light just to be sure. Yep. A shiner. His first. I was oddly proud. He didn't act like he was in pain. He didn't know any difference unless I touched it, which I did.

I thought about how lucky I am to have boys. Rough and tumble, dirt, sweat, noise BOYS. The kind that don't hold grudges or remember past grievances and use them as artillery later on. Boys who get a bruise, dust themselves off, jump up and try again. Because they live in a world of wonder, and there's far too much exploring to do to worry about silly things like pants or a scraped knee. (Nash currently lacks the first and has the second).

And it's because of this that I absolutely have no idea how he got that black eye. He is a boy. He's learning to walk. He falls. But he is so happy to be so close to reaching that goal that he never stays down for long. Certainly not long enough for me to check him for bruises.

I would do well to take a leaf out of his book and jump back up and try again at a number of things, no matter how many tries it takes.

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