Pause. Slam.

It was one of those moments where time stood still. I felt like I had all the time in the world to see what was happening and prepare for it. I had run through the sequence of events dozens of times and knew exactly what movements to make to resolve the situation quickly, but it was only a fraction of a second.

Ellie and I were headed out to run a couple of errands and have her bangs trimmed. I was putting the little potty chair into the trunk, chatting with her all the while. I reached up and pushed the trunk lid down. Then she shot out her little hand and rested it on the back of the car, right in harm's way.

I saw it coming and I just had to wait. There was a moment of silence after the big bang, while she looked up at me, right into my eyes. Then she started screaming. I didn't waste a movement. My hand was in my pocket pressing the trunk release button on the key fob almost before she started screaming. I was swearing and clutching her to my chest while running for the house as the tears started to come. I was cuddling her on the couch with the phone in one hand and a bag of frozen peas over her fingers in the other hand just seconds after it happened.

My mother was away from her cell phone. Paul was unreachable, en route to Mississippi. I had to wait an unusually long time to get through to a nurse at Ellie's doctor's office.

But within 2 or three minutes, she had stopped crying. She allowed me to pull on each of her three smashed fingers (middle, ring, and pinkie on the left hand). She opened and closed her fist for me. She gripped my finger firmly, and held the peas to her own hand, very seriously (missing the injured spot, but solemn all the same).

The nurse said that at this age, little finger bones are harder to break than they will be in just a few short years' time. My mom pointed out that Ellie's natural joint flexibility (looser tendons and ligaments) meant that her hand bent back further, minimizing damage to the bones.

Within minutes, the only sign of any drama was a slight redness from the cold peas, and a tiny bruise at the base of the middle and ring fingers.

We made the hair appointment, ran our errand, and played at the park on the way home. A few days later, she still seems perfectly fine. Whew.

While we were out, I bought her a pair of crocs - pics to come shortly. As you see, I've laid the groundwork for a reward system that's sure to cause both of us much grief in the short, medium, and long term. But I slammed her tiny hand in the trunk.