Lucky 13, that's what they say. Well, my dear, apparently not for you. Tonight was your first real injury...but I think your father is scarred worse than you are.
Your father and I realized that boo-boo's are part of life but it's difficult for us to see you in any sort of pain at all. That's why tonight was a real drag. Your father had suprised me with a trip to the day spa for an hour long massage. I think he realized I was on the verge of my breaking point due to cabin fever setting in after mother nature decided to dump over eighteen inches of snow on us yesterday. We had not been out in two days (must make sure we don't make a habit of that!) and I was feeling very, shall we say, restless. The massage was fantastic and it was nice to get out of the house for an hour. I returned home to see that you were pretty upset but, sadly, your father was even more upset. He announced that you cut your finger as he was holding your hand up in the air with a piece of tissue paper wrapped around it. The look on his face made me think that it was much worse than it actually was. I took a look and was immediately so proud of you because if I had cut my finger the way you had, I surely would have been crying much harder than you were. I tried not to panic, grabbed ahold of you, and tried to calm you down a bit. We put a band-aid on your finger in the hopes that the flap of skin that was hanging down would stay attached. I began nursing you in an effort to get you to relax and forget you had just sliced your finger. It seemed to be working like a charm until you decided the band-aid was something fun to chew on. In less than an instant, I pulled your finger out of your mouth only to see that the band-aid was gone. You began choking on it as I fished my finger around in your mouth. At this point, I really hit the panic button and decided we needed to call the pediatrician. They told us to keep an eye on it tonight and if it bleeds at all throughout the course of the night, then we will need to go in tomorrow and possibly get a stitch or some glue. Yikes! I am hoping that will not be necessary.
You are such a little trooper. After a while you acted unphased by any of it and wanted to nurse and go to bed as usual. It was your parents who were the ones that were all freaked out. I called Auntie Jess and Uncle Pete for some added reassurance that you were going to be okay and they made me feel much better, as usual (experienced parents are your best asset in times like these).
I have been so cautious since you were born, maybe to a fault, so it's a bit ironic that within the span of a weeks time, you have fallen off a riding toy, bruised your eye (you fell down when I let go of you and you let go of the table that you were holding on to while standing), and cut your finger. Any time you hurt yourself, I realize how difficult it is to see you in any kind of pain. Hopefully, we can do a good job limiting the pain you have to suffer but it's all part of growing up. Here's to hoping your finger doesn't bleed tonight and heals miraculously overnight.
I love you.
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