Sloan is a hazard to himself. Perhaps it is a form of middle child syndrome; a way of getting attention that is exclusively his.
The other morning, as I announced that I would be overseeing the dressing of all pajama-clad and/or naked boys in three minutes time, Sloan decided that he was in need of such one-on-one time. He proceeded, in true boy fashion, to take a flying leap over a kitchen chair and my traumatic morning commenced.
I always knew that Sloan would be my first set of stitches, and I was certain that his time had come.
You see, when his face hit the floor on the other side of the chair, he bit his lip. This isn't the first time he's done this. It was, however, the first time he had done this:
Yeah. That's right. The blood on the underside of his bottom lip is the EXIT wound.
After a frantic call (or six) to Daddy and a few rude text messages, I was able to contact Daddy who, after receiving two blurry camera-phone pictures via text, decided that it wasn't serious enough for Urgent Care and/or stitches to be necessary.
Surely, he underestimated the situation. My baby had a HOLE through his lip. I guess I should have seized the moment and put a toilet-paper tube in it to save him time and pain during his angst-ridden youth. Ah, well, I'm sure he'll do it again...
I spent the next 30 minutes pouring over Sloan, deciding whether or not my motherly instincts warranted an overruling.
Of course, while the cat's away, the mice will...
... see that the pantry door is ajar and lay hold upon the only saliva-soluble packaging within reach. (Notice the floor and the used-to-be white jammies. Still working on returning both to their original luster.)
In the end, Sloan refused to go to the doctor and screamed for Daddy all morning. I guess that's reasonable since Daddy isn't the mean one who forced you to eat your weight in popsicles in an effort to combat the swelling of your already large, Gailey-bred, bottom lip.
Sorry Pal, maybe next time you should wait to do something like this until you are on Daddy's watch.
I did the same thing in gymnastics. My tooth went right through my lip on a landing gone horribly wrong. I have a scar just below my lip from it. I too, did not receive emergency care instead dr. dad patched it with some ducktape. Priceless.
ReplyDeleteoh My!! brooks!! What a brave boy and a fun morning you had!! I'm sorry!
ReplyDeleteThat said... I'm sure glad I have girls. :)
Ew. And I am thinking he needs the stitches.
ReplyDeleteAnd maybe you need a chocolate-dipped strawberry or two...
I'm glad we have Mason to have an happy ending to a very very sad story...Brooks did you ever thing that you should write a book, you would be a natural.
ReplyDeletething should be *think*
ReplyDeleteI second that, I love reading your blog...and for the record...I submit you put a disclaimer before the blood. I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit. (he he) Oh poor boy. I don't think I could've done that. I probably would've passed out and then my kids would run around like wild indians that just won victory over the palefaces. My apt. would be distroyed.
ReplyDeleteYikes. I'm certain I would have gone overboard and headed to the ER right away. I continue to wait for Cash do something similar. He is forever jumping off things, etc. and the inevitable is sure to happen. What a morning eh?
ReplyDeleteI love Mason's cute smiling face!! You can't get too mad at him when he looks at you like that! If you are still trying to get the chocolate out, call me and I will try to come help you.
ReplyDeleteOh, Brooks. I feel your pain. I have a picture like that of Emma when she was 2 or 3. She jumped right into the edge of our table. Besides seeing your child wounded and in pain... it's the "motherly instincts warranting an overruling" that is the toughest for me. Just know that chicks dig scars!
ReplyDelete