Allie was outside playing on the swing-set doing her normal dare-devil tricks. I no longer watch her. She needs to try new "risky" physical feats, but I don't need the feeling that my heart has stopped several times each day. There were sounds of laughter and happiness. A short time later, Allie raced up to the house. She gave me a look of wonder and showed me her back, which contained a 4" x 4" scrape that was bleeding. In a hushed voice she confided, "Mom, I think I'm dying." No tears, no histrionics, just acceptance. The scrape was washed and covered with a bandage. And once more my little dare-devil was back to normal, jumping from the top of the swing set onto the trampoline.
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