On Friday I saw what my littles are made of.
For no apparent reason (save being pregnant, wearing boots I don't often wear, listening to phone messages, and calling to children over my shoulder), I fell down the first flight of stairs to the landing.
I guess I gave a little scream, and I'm sure I thumped and bumped loudly. It seemed that as soon as I crumpled onto the landing I was surrounded by my little responders. Each of them tried to rub my back and the big boys wanted to check to see where I was hurt. The little two teared up with me in sympathy (and fear). T started repeating, "I sorry, Mommy. You 'give me?"
Thankfully, my worst injuries seem to be my knee, shin, and wrist. It could have been much worse! (There is a window on the landing and I wondered for a second if I would go through if I hit it just right.) Since we have been housebound because of snow, I've been able to rest more and even take a few days off from exercising. (Even though I miss it, I don't think my knee could manage.) I'm grateful for my children's quick, compassionate response; what a blessing it is for me to have them.