The girls were all with their Daddy and Papa and I had some important parenting topics to discuss (namely, screen time restrictions and allowance/chores) so we decided to go out to eat. Papa really wanted southwest egg rolls, which is a pretty surprising craving. We haven't been to Chili's in...
Anyway, we had a waiter-in-training whose name was David. He was unusually nice and attentive for a waiter, probably because he was new and hadn't figure out what a time-sink a four-year-old can be if you let him talk to you about your tattoos. It was pleasant, though.
At one point, while Papa was trying to make sure the steak knives weren't going to end up in Cub's hands, David commiserated, saying he has a little dude of his own. He said he's seen a video game in which the objective is just to keep your kid out of peril, and it seems pretty true to reality. He asked, "does it get easier?"
Papa and I shared a knowing glance and I said, "It gets... different."
Fast forward...
We get home and pretty much immediately start cleaning the kitchen. I'm on spring break and we're leaving for a week-long vacation on Thursday, so we want to get the house relatively in order while we have the chance. We're already partly packed. Since the girls are sharing one big suitcase (but they don't share a room) their luggage is open in the middle of the common area of the house.
Cub is playing with the dogs, just on the other side of the bar. I can see his face, but not the rest of his body from where I stand in the kitchen. Then, suddenly, I see him fall and he screams as he picks himself up... off of the open luggage.
I get around the bar in time to see his devastated face, quickly reddening with upset flush and blood, just before he escapes to his room.
He always goes to his room when he's hurt.
In no hurry, I walk to his room. Let's not overreact. Let's not feed his panic. But when I get there, he's much bloodier than I expected, and this is an exceptional amount of fuss he's making. This little dude has cut himself, bit his lip, bloodied his nose and variously injured himself many times in his very adventurous and hyperactive life. I'm pretty desensitized and I've become quite good in a crisis. Still, this was more blood than I was expecting, and he never screams this much.
I calmly picked him up and his screaming paused long enough for him to say, "I want to look in the mirror." I took him to the bathroom... but seeing himself in the mirror definitely did not slow the screams. So, wailing like a fire engine, he was ferried to the couch in the common area... where he discovered that there was blood on my arm and the shoulder of my shirt.
He said, "this is definitely not cool." To which I agreed.
So, long story short... he got an ice pack and a wet rag and some cuddles. Once the bleeding stopped and we could see the wound, we realized that the wound itself looked more ragged and angry than we've seen before. Papa took him to the hospital to make sure he doesn't need stitches.
Now, they're checked in and waiting to be seen, and Cub is telling everyone all about his lip, asking them about their various injuries and illnesses, and convincing other kids to chase him around the waiting room. Never a dull moment.
It really does just get... different.
It really does just get... different.
No comments:
Post a Comment