I was in the kitchen late this afternoon absorbed in the consuming task of cleaning out my already-used skillet sufficiently so that the frittata I was making would come out of the skillet cleanly at the end for a show-stopping dinner. Or at least not a fallen-apart mess. It was a very important thing I was doing, obviously.
So important that I left Charlie to his own devices in the dining room while I attended to my skillet. When I checked on him, he was busy with the laundry basket on the floor. It was a plastic laundry basket filled with clean sheets. I figured pulling the sheets out would occupy him for at least a few minutes. Long enough for me to get my pan in frittata-ready shape.
As I was wiping the pan out and putting it back on the stove to fill with the egg mixture, I heard a loud thunk from the dining room, followed by a baby wail of the "OWWWWW" variety.
I ran in to find the laundry basket on its side and Charlie screaming next to it. When I picked him up, I saw the blood in his mouth.
It was ALL OVER his mouth. I couldn't even figure out how he had hurt himself. I brought him outside into the sunlight so I could investigate more closely while he cried all over my shoulder and dripped blood and spit on my shirt. I figured he had probably just bitten his lip somewhere, but I wanted to be sure he hadn't bitten right through it or bitten the end of his tongue off or something equally horrifying.
After a couple of minutes of dabbing with a paper towel, I ascertained that there was no really awful damage. Which left me with a still-crying child. How was I supposed to explain to a year-old baby that it's no big deal? You'll just have a swollen lip! Nothing to cry about!
Except he's a baby, and crying is sort of their thing. So I went inside and grabbed a big ice cube from my gin and tonic for him to suck on.
That's right. I was drinking a gin and tonic when my son injured himself. This just gets better and better. At least I rinsed the ice cube off before giving it to him, so he wasn't drinking gin too. Though that might have helped with the numbing effect.
In the end, the only visible signs of his accident were a slightly swollen upper lip and one perfect frittata. Seriously. Lovely brown crust, came out of the pan completely intact, tasted great. Charlie loved it.
Totally worth my baby's blood, right? Right.
I'll do better tomorrow.
P.S. I'm sure you can guess that despite my flippant tone, NO parent EVER wants to see blood dripping from any part of his or her child's body. It's terrifying even if you know it's minor. Thank the god of frittatas that this was minor.
8 comments:
Although you were shocked, he'll have no memory of the accident!
Have you put one of your kids in the emergency room yet? That's fun.
The mouth wounds are the most elusive. Everything's pink in there anyways and trying to investigate is like nailing jello to a tree.
Poor buddy. Those laundry hampers are dangerous!
I have one better! While in a frantic haste of doing chores last night, my goat bit a HUGE chunk of hair from my daughter's head. Pulled it right out! Lost of crying and screaming ensued, as you can imagine. At least chores got done on time and you can't even see the bald spot where my daughter's hair was ripped out. Argh!
A small spoon of white granulated sugar straight into the mouth stops bleeding right away and the shock usually stops the crying.
Save the gin to warm for earaches.
I promise you will have much more embarrassing stories before those boys are out of your house.
Kathryn
Wow, I love Kathryn's tip - where was that when my babies were babies?
When my son was about 2, we went to the doctor for something (ear infection maybe) and he had so many little cuts and scrapes that I think the doctor was evaluating him to see if he was being abused. Doc went over pretty much every square inch on his body and asked me about every scrape. I was torn between being insulted, and being glad they take potential abuse seriously.
One of many incidents I'm sure. Charlie is quite lucky to not only have a mom that's quite competent and in control (at least externally), but also willing to share her ice from a totally deserved afternoon gin and tonic!
your mom never wants to see you bleed, no matter how old you get.
my mom only ever came to one of my bike races, ever.
that one time i went over my handlebars and my helmet strap ripped my ear a little at the back and it was no big deal, but any head wound, especially with your heart rate up, bleeds like a son of a bear and by the time i finished i was covered in blood which i thought looked cool.
my mom, not so much. she does not want to see me on a bike anymore. i was like 40 years old when that happened!
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