We have been home no less than 24 hours.
The kids are loving seeing their toys again. It's like a whole new set of play things! Maybe we should leave home more often. This morning, the kiddos dove into the toy box and pulled out their capes they haven't seen for (heaven forbid!) two weeks.
Swiftly they pulled them on, Kurt calling to his siblings, "Let's run real fast twins! We're the best boys!" A few times running from the door to the couch proved quite successful. Then, just as we were feeling the calm of being home again, we saw him crash. Hard. Honestly, he ran and slid like he was on the tail end of a home run, aiming for home plate and sliding with all of the spirit he could muster.
I heard a smack but could only see his body. I heard it before I saw it. That should have been my first clue. As I made my way over to him, he began to cry. A serious cry. As he stood, it took me a second to register all of the dark red rolling down his face. I grabbed him up, placed him on the counter (is it bad that my first initial thought was to not get blood on the carpet?)
Miriam took over holding him while I grabbed a quick towel. I was glad it was a hand towel and not just a rag- it soaked up a lot of blood quite quickly. We assessed the situation and had a hard time really seeing his wound due to all the blood.
I took him, along with the towel and sat on the couch with him. His cries began to die down and I could tell the blood was subsiding so I decided to take a look. What I saw was a deep gash. I thought I had better be safe than sorry and decided to take him to the insta-care while Miriam fed the twins lunch (oh yeah- we were supposed to be cooking lunch!)
I was having reservations driving him there. The bleeding had pretty much stopped and he was laughing and happy. I told myself they'd just put some neosporen on it, attach a butterfly band-aid and we'd be on our way.
About half way there, Kurt was talking and asking questions and I was doing my best to answer them. All of a sudden, I heard him begin to spit. Strange. That was quickly followed by him pronouncing, "Uh oh Mom! Uh oh!" I looked in my rear-view mirror to see a large amount of blood gushing from his wound down his face, and into his mouth (hence the spitting). I had a knee gut reaction to lose my lunch, but pushed the feeling down further- maybe for later.
I calmly (as much as I could) pulled over and reached for the baby wipes. Poor guy. It was all over his face, his shirt, his hands. I had him hold a few wipes (why had I not thought to bring the towel!?) on his head as we drove on.
Once we walked in, anyone who acknowledged us he had to take off his wipes and show them enthusiastically. That only resulted in more bleeding. Some of the fellow patrons in the waiting room were giving us a bit of the stink eye so I was extremely grateful when they ushered us quickly back.
He was a champ! He laid perfectly still. He busied himself with toys as we waited for the numing salve to take effect. He was so excited to have a blue superhero headband. He actually asked if we could take it home. Once the doctor had a chance to look at it, he knew right away he'd need 5 or so stitches. We waited again for the numing salve to take full effect and then they sewed him up. I had to laugh, when they swaddled him up in a sheet, tucking in his arms so he wouldn't flail about, he told the doctor, "We do this with our babies!" Referring to the swaddling- not the stitches thankfully.
All in all, I was quite impressed. So much so, he and I went for a little treat after. I figured he deserved it! After all, he was much more composed than even I was. Though I realize in my state- that's not hard to do.
I sure love this guy, stitches and all! He's been great dealing with them. He reminds me some days to put the medicine on his head. And sometimes all I have is Sissy's hair bow to hold his hair back with, and though he gives me a look like this- he's quite accommodating.
Even a week later when he got the stitches out, he laid there perfectly still (though he just kept saying, "Ow. Ow....ow". Even when they had to remove his scab and pull out the hair that had grown attached to it (again, quite proud of myself for holding it together!)
That is why this boy is my hero today, cape or no cape.
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