Poor, poor little third-baby James.
We were all out in the backyard this afternoon, playing in the baby pools and goofing around, when all of the sudden he popped up onto two feet and started walking around. It was really adorable--little dripping wet baby in a too-long swimsuit, WALKING!
So I ran inside to get my camera, hoping he would do it again. And he did! I whipped the camera out of my pocket and pushed the button and? Nothing. A kid had taken the batteries out.
So I ran inside AGAIN and frantically found some new batteries, jammed them into the camera, then ran back outside ready to capture the big moment (or at least the third iteration of the big moment).
But as I crossed the backyard to get a good angle on him, something strange caught my eye in Wes's hair.
Forgetting all about James's big milestone I ran over to Wes mentally cataloging everything we had eaten today and hoping against hope that one of those things was red. But no, we hadn't had any ketchup, or jelly, or jello, or beets.
WHAT HAPPENED TO WES?! DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO WES?!!!
His hair was matted with blood.
WHO DID THIS? WHAT HAPPENED? DOESN'T THAT HURT, WES?!
Until this moment he'd been happily playing in the wading pool and going down the slide. He seemed oblivious that a drop of blood was making its way down his left temple.
I carried him inside, laid him on the counter, and sprayed his head with the vegetable sprayer. Sure enough, there was a half-inch long gash on the left side of the crown of his head.
I asked him again how it happened.
Charlie hit me with a Lego.
Charlie came inside, looking like he'd seen a ghost. I was stuffing Wes into dry clothes and shoes in preparation for our mad dash to urgent care before they closed in twenty minutes.
LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO HIM! WHY WOULD YOU EVER DO THAT? YOU HURT HIM!
He was very sad that he couldn't join Wes at urgent care and instead had to stay home and help Ryan make dinner. I was very sad that he'd lacerated his brother's head. We were all sad together!
When the put my thirty-five pound child on a giant gurney in the "trauma" part of the urgent care clinic I started to feel very silly. The "wound" had stopped bleeding and did not appear to be serious, other than being so beyond disgusting looking I will not attempt to describe it here. Still, it was a lot of blood, certainly more than the time Ryan scratched his head on the playground and had come to this very urgent care clinic several months ago.
I licked my thumb and worked at getting the blood trail off his face and tried to keep him from injuring the rest of his head by fooling around with the bed and doctor's stool. He was happy and goofy and totally wound up for the thirty minutes we waited--jumping on the bed off the bed on the bed off the bed, setting the brake on the bed turning the brake off setting the brake, climbing up the back of the bed, spinning on the stool--but when the doctor came in he collapsed against the pillow, looking as pitiful as possible.
He managed a smile when the doctor said "Hey Transformer, I'm Dr. Mike. Did you bonk your head?" He was diagnosed with a gash and declared to be in need of a staple (Yuck! And also, so glad we didn't come here unnecessarily!). The doctor showed me how the staple would work--you just get the skin like this and SNAP! The staple holds the skin together so it can heal. My day was getting more disgusting by the minute.
He advised against a numbing drug because he said it would hurt worse than the staple and he just. kept. talking about it and Wes's eyes got bigger and bigger every time he said shot! needle! sting! medicine! and I wanted to interrupt, "I've got a stapler right here, let's do this thing."
So I held Wes in my lap and felt his heart pounding in his chest. The doctor put the stapler against his head and SQUEEZED and SNAP! My kid's head was collated and stapled like a final exam.
Wes let out a ragged sigh and burrowed into my chest.
It looks exactly as disgusting as you might imagine. Like a staple stuck in a bloody patch of hair. You are welcome.
We arrived home to great "I want to see the staple" fanfare, which died down pretty quickly because GAG! and after the appropriate fussing over him we spent the evening teasing him that we were going to get out the electromagnet if he didn't come back to the table/brush his teeth/put on his jammies.
And then later, when I was washing the dinner dishes, James slipped and hit his gums on the edge of the bathtub, which caused his allllmost new tooth to pop through the gums which of course meant lots and LOTS of blood. He was screaming like crazy as Ryan said to me "I don't want you to freak out, but James hurt himself." He turned James around and sure enough, his mouth was full of blood and blood was dripping down his chin and onto his chest.
My first thought was "Dammit, urgent care if closed!" My second thought was "SERIOUSLY?!!!" After we ran some water over it it stopped bleeding quickly and he forgot all about it. I couldn't identify any staple-worthy gashes in his mouth, so we stuffed him into his jammies and put him to bed not long after.
We still don't have a video of James walking.