Brave Buggy, the Self-Suckler

It was a long day at the market for Olive today and she didn't take a nap, though during the last half hour she nestled down under a blanket and prepared for slumber.  I caught her on several occasions attempting - rather impressively - to nurse herself.  She had a handful of flesh that she was pulling mouthward, determined to get some satisfying results.  Silly girl.  Here's a picture, though it doesn't do justice to what was happening.

Sometimes when she's shirtless her pale, almost translucent skin calls to mind the scene in ET where Michael is biking around frantically in search of Elliott and sees ET half dead in a stream with a raccoon nosing about.  Does anyone else see it?

Later, while I was getting my bag out of the front seat of the car, I hadn't noticed a little hand slipping quickly into the door frame and I closed it.  I looked down and saw that my child's finger was still in the crack and I yanked it back open.  She made no sound of protest, though I was reminded of the time I got my fourth finger dislocated by a heavy metal cooler door and how it took several seconds for the pain to register.  I could see already, though, that her finger had been spared and it was only bruised and had a pretty good (as in bad) scrape down from her nail.  And then, oh, did she wail.  I was frantic and considered rushing her to the hospital but reassessed the injury and deemed such measures unnecessary.  Still, it gave me quite a scare to think of how badly she could have been hurt, the severed digit I may've had to retrieve and have sewn back on.  Yikes.  I knew that her pain was fleeting when we went inside and she was immediately calmed and distracted by her toys and books.  Since she wasn't about to let me near her "PBJ finger" - the blood and raw flesh must have looked like strawberry jam to her - I tossed her in the bathtub along with some splashes of tea tree oil to help disinfect the wound.  She went to bed happy as can be.