You Should See the Other Guy

I got a call today as I left work on my lunch break. It was from my son's school. I freaked out, knowing it had to be bad. His after-school teacher called to say that he'd fallen at school and had a gash on his face that would likely need stitches. I could hear him screaming in the background. They said he was in the office and they were trying to contain the bleeding. I was 30 minutes away.

Twenty minutes later, I was at his school. I flew. It was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be, but it was nowhere near what I hoped it would be.


My buddy. It wasn't anywhere nearly as bad as when he fell last year and banged up his face on the curb.

Ouch. That was a bad fall.

But it was still really hard. He didn't need stitches, even though my husband thinks the doctor was just trying to get out of holding down a 4 year old. Instead, the doctor gave him what my son called "fire glue" because it burned when the doctor put it on and my kiddo cried for me to blow on his face while he breathed through the pain.

But it's glued and taped up he's good. Clingy and comforted more than usual by his blankie. But good.

Whew.