Sometimes, Mom is wrong.

Siblings squabble. It's the nature of the beast. Even my wonderful, angelic children have been known to have a cross word amongst themselves. Usually, nothing but feelings are hurt; an apology and a hug and we move on.
Yesterday, though, it was not the case. After we watched The Football Game, the kids were having some grapes. Madeleine reached for Rachel's, but Rachel wasn't in a mood to share. With a resounding "No!" and a swing, Ms. Toddler defended what was hers.
"Ow! My eye!" cried Madeleine, covering her right eye. Tears. Protests. I admonished Rachel for hurting her sister, but reminded Madeleine that she shouldn't have gone after the grapes.
I thought her protests about her eye were symptoms of overreacting. I could see nothing wrong. I have contact lenses, I know eye pain. I've had eyelashes under the lens, or sand, or lenses inside out. Blink a little bit, it will go away.
An hour and change later, she's still crying about it. Her eye was still red, I thought partly due to her regular rubbing and partly due to her crying. Daddy points out, "She's not one to play it for sympathy." Fine, maybe you're right. It's after 8 and I don't feel like making a big drive to our doc's hospital when we have one a mile away. It's an eye--yeah, it's serious, but does it need a pediatric ER?
So we called the pediatrician, where we were told the close one should be fine but we definitely needed to take her in.
She slept most of the time we were waiting, but once the doc saw us, all was better. He didn't lie, the anesthetic stung for about a count of 10 and then it was all better. He put on the gloves, which I informed him were her favorite color. He played that up with the ultraviolet light: "I use this one because your eyes are blue. I have a brown one for girls with brown eyes." She cooperated as much as you can really ask a five-year-old to do so, and once the dye went it, you could see the scratch. We're talking maybe a half inch the way it squiggled around. Little sister got her good.
She came home with a blue glove to try to blow up (doc had been unsuccessful), a popsicle (to make up for the glove), an eye patch, and some ointment to go on thrice daily.
She's all better now, and Rachel has had a manicure. And I've apologized for not believing her when she was really hurt.