The other day, my 3-year old daughter catapulted herself through the kitchen and collided with the doorjamb. Her head, her shoulder, her hip all hit, and hit hard.
I held my breath.
She teetered, stunned, for a minute.
Time stood still.
Then she turned to me, flashed a 1000-kilowatt smile, put her hands up, palms forward and said: "I'm good!" She then dashed off to resume the catapulting.
Thank you, Pepsi Max.
Apparently, 3-year old girls can take anything too.
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