If I Told You Once, I Told You A Thousand Times

She whacked her head on the coffee table.
Hard.
At first I thought she broke her nose, then I realized she split open an eyelash size gash on the forehead.

I didn't blink. I didn't express dismay, I didn't comment, panic, startle or otherwise.
CRACK went her head.
"I told you not to jump off the couch" went through my head.
Followed by "I've already been to the hospital once today and at the doctors 5 hours later, I am not going to the ER." All that followed by "It serves you right."
Outloud I said "Do you want peas, ice or the cow ice pack for boo boos."

She asked for the clover shaped reusable icecubes I put in her lunch bag.
And so she sits. Blue shamrock to forehead.
Livingroom looking like the wrath of god.
And me without a single tube of neosporin.
And all I can think of is that if she goes to bed within the next 5 minutes MAYBE I can peapod a grocery order.

Ah bliss.