Here I sit alone in our house on a Tuesday evening. It started mundanely enough, with steaks on the grill and hot dogs for Will. But as I started to clean up from dinner, I heard a cry of pain from the breakfast area.
Will had somehow fallen - HARD - on one of his Tonka trucks. I could tell he had hurt his face, so I immediately figured he'd sustained some sort of mouth injury. Then I saw blood low on his chin.
He'd somehow cut his chin on the Tonka truck. Once Andy and I had him calmed down and cleaned up enough to look at it, we both came to the same conclusion - we needed a doctor to look at it. It was a little deep for either of us to stick a Band-Aid on and call it good.
Once I had recovered from my physical illness at the sight of the cut (I am usually strong-stomached - or at least I thought I was - maybe it was something about it being my own child, but I wasn't doing to well for a few minutes there), we headed to the illustrious Southern Hills Medical Center. By the time we were in the car, Will was calm and content with a large Band-aid on his cut.
By the time we reached the waiting room, Will was back to his usual inquisitive self. He began by asking loudly about another patient, "Why does that man have a pink phone? Pink phones are for ladies! But maybe that is his Mam... maybe that is his wife's phone. Men are supposed to have blue phones. My daddy has a dark blue phone!"
He followed up this announcement with, "Why is that BABY here?" about a crying child.
But perhaps his best line was reserved for a lady using the courtesy phone. "Is that lady OLD? Because she sounds like she is old!" (Although I agreed wholeheartedly with this observation, at this point we tried to explain that while he was free to talk, we needed to refrain from discussing the other people who were waiting.)
After spending a few minutes in the waiting room, we came to the conclusion that this was not the place for the Soph. Something about my vivacious and friendly little one, sick and whiny babies and sneezing homeless guys all sharing the same space just didn't seem like a winner of an idea. So after a little family cheek-kissing, Soph and I came home.
She's in bed, and here I sit waiting for an update and to be called to pick up my men. I don't know yet whether Will will require stitches or (hopefully) just skin adhesive.
MIDNIGHT UPDATE: The men safely arrived home around 10:15 tonight. Will was happy and full of energy and sported skin adhesive on his chin (no stitches!). The doctor said that a couple of years ago, they would've used stitches but apparently the skin adhesive technology continues to progress. S/he also said that the scar would be much smaller than without the adhesive. The cut itself already looks a lot better just from being sealed.
Fun at the Fair
1 year ago