Poor Child!

Those marks on Quinn's cheek, between her fingers, and on the burping cloth aren't ketchup. It's blood.

Quinn's blood.

I cut off a little more than her thumb nail.

When Lola K was still here, she ordered NOT to cut Quinn's nails. Yet. Now, Lola K in the Philippines, Yaya advises "Do not cut her nails on Tuesdays and Fridays". For you die-hard Catholics, those are the days of the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary. 

So today, SUNDAY, a day of the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary, I cut Quinn's nails, starting with the left fingers. All went well until I started on the right hand. She screamed  –  I mean SCREAMED!  – bloody murder a split second after the telltale "clip" of the fingernail cutter. And blood was everywhere. EVERYWHERE!

She cried more from this accident than she did for her shots. My poor child! I had to work up boobs-ful of milk to finally appease her, which took a good portion of an hour. POOR CHILD!

And even after her crying fit, exhaustion putting her to sleep, she still wore a painful countenance from the ordeal. MY POOR, POOR CHILD!

I still have her toes to clip... Poor, poor Mama Netty!

Hey, wait a minute... It's Lent. During Lent, Sunday's Mysteries are the Sorrowful...

Bad Netty! I need to brush up on my Catechism.