After face-planting the tile floors, Lily has herself a great big fat lip. Poor baby.
I love how instances like this show off our different parenting styles.
Mine equates freak out mode..."omg, my poor baby, where is my phone, should I call 911, do you think she is ok, will the bleeding ever stop, ohhhhh my poor baby, let me hold you and snuggle and spoil you until you feel all better"...
Ryan..."you're ok, you're tough, it's just a little blood, you're fine...Lindsay, stop freaking out!...."
Good balance, I suppose.