Did you know the Olympics started yesterday? (Oh fine, husband. They start today. It was just the opening ceremony last night. “The pageantry!”) We tivo’d the show and were watching it this morning. The advantage to this approach was that we could fast forward through commercials (and half the teams coming in). This also proved advantageous because we haven’t had the chance to finish it.
No, we had to turn it off just after the teams came in. Because a certain 3 year old, excited by all the Olympic fuss and a bit tired from staying out late last night celebrating his Aunt Amy’s birthday, decided to run up our stairs to get his basketball shorts. Except the stairs jumped up and bit him. We heard crying. Papa went to check it out. Mind, this is the kid that fell down our other stairs twice with no ill effects. He’s also fallen part way down these stairs once. Hurried steps later we found a nice gash on the Boy’s chin. About 3/4 of an inch long. Not bleeding horribly, just seeping a bit. After cleaning it up, I felt a doctor’s visit was probably needed. Josh disagreed. We tried to call his mom (who’s in the medical industry) but she wasn’t home. So I called the Pediatrician’s office who advised we ought to come have it checked out. Because the chin is a horrible place to try to keep wounds closed up and healed. At this point the Boy thought a trip to the doc would be cool. Little did he know…
(He’s showing off the skier on his shirt. Olympics, see?)
Our pediatrician’s office is open on Saturday’s for Urgent Care. Thank heaven. Because the nurses there are wonderful. Our happy gal in her Curious George scrubs came in, assessed the damage, debated gluing, but decided with the location and the fact that the Boy can’t stop talking and won’t sit still that stitches were the best option. Oy vey. Still happy we marched off to the procedure room. Shortly thereafter? Not. So. Happy. The paper shield over half his face and the 4 shots of lidocain to numb the area and someone was near hysterical. I was only verging on tears. Really. I swear.
Five stitches later… Ugh. Just looking at this makes my heart jump. We call them his whiskers. Like Papa’s goatee. As a reward, the Boy received three suckers from the nurses (no yellow though, bummer), a transformer sticker, lunch at Ruby Tuesdays, and hot chocolate from Starbucks (um, that last one might have been more for Mama than the Boy, but whatevs).
It also totally wiped the little snot out.
It probably doesn’t help that he’s developing a head cold. But a three hour nap, plus a half hour of crabby later, he’s back to himself. Right now, I’ve gotta sign off because the Boy’s demanding I come construct a train for him to play with. And watch some Ohno kick tail.