“Look Mom, I got runned over.”

Those words aren’t very adrenaline inducing when the person speaking them is just holding out their small hand, which is unscathed except for a bandaid. I peeled the bandaid back and saw a scrape that was still filled with little bits of road. The mention of washing off the injury caused tears and I looked up to judge if the upset was pain or fear. The fearful eyes didn’t hold my attention. I was distracted by the large goose egg forming under an abrasion on her forehead. “Who ran over you?” She whimpered that it was M. M is a petite 7-year-old girl. “How did M run over you?” “She rode her bike over me.” Amy lifted her leg to show me tire tracks on her calf. Amy’s big sister found this story very funny and joined in the interrogation.
Sarah: “What were you doing? Lying down in the road?”
Amy: “I tripped and then M just drove her bike over me.”
Sarah: “Did she fall off her bike when she hit you?”
Amy: “She didn’t hit me. She rode over me and kept going.”
Sarah: “M rides a bike better than Chuck Norris.”

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