I’m in bed this morning listening to the boys on the monitor while trying to eke out 5 more minutes of rest when I hear blood-curdling screams (Robbie) followed by frenetic apologies (Mike). Frankly, the apologies scared me more than the screaming, and I ran over to their room. I was greeted by Robbie with a gash on his eyebrow that was flooded with blood.
Phone calls, clothes changes, wound-washing, and ice are followed by a trip to Urgent Care.
The bravest boy ever basically put himself into a trance-like state where he zoned out watching a movie. He couldn’t really see the TV while they were doing the stitches, but it gave him something to focus on.
I had been trying to think of a way to explain “stitches” to him and came up empty, so I didn’t say anything at all. That actually turned out well because I know the idea of it would have completely freaked him out.
Plus it was really great when I explained it to him on the way out and he realized that he had been able to have someone sew on his body without being terrified.
We walked in the door and he announced to daddy that “I got FIVE stitches!” And now he’s got a great story to tell at school on Monday. Me? I need about a gallon more coffee, thanks for asking.