Sound of scooter being dropped on cement, followed by screen door opening, regular door opening, everything being slammed shut.
He was laying on the floor on the other side of the table where I am seated.
"What happened Spence?"
"My knee, my knee"
"Do you need your ice pack?"
"Well, it's in the freezer, go get it."
OH, now don't you go think I am a mean, calloused mommy. This is a test to see how bad it really is. I learned through experience that the more you gush over an injury the bigger and more painful it seems to become, even a little scratch.
He got up and walked to the kitchen behind me and got out the ice pack. I joined him. He sat back down and placed the ice on, and then in a minute lifted it up to peek,
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! It's bleeding!"
He had scraped it on the cement. Longish grooves. We cleaned it off, put some Neosporin on it, with pain reliever in it because I am a nice mom, and bandaged it up. He was rubbing his hands too.
"Do they kinda burn?"
"Yeah mommy, they do"
I hate it when that happens!
He recovered nicely and is back to playing outside, well I should say he was. It's hot today, now he is reading near me at the table.
If I had run over and gasped when I saw the gashes I am sure he would be limping and "unable" to play. It's like saying 'Uh-oh, try again' to a toddler learning to stay upright. JMHO.
I want to give a shout out to Bimmy...HI BIMMY! Who is one of my readers that I met on Saturday night. She also sings for a band called No Taboo that my husband happens to be in...but I had never met them before, due to babysitting issues and whatnot, and I didn't know she was one of my readers.