Last week I was in NC on a business trip. I had called to check in with the boys and got no answer. Rang and rang and rang. I knew something was wrong. I was right. Something WAS wrong. The Littlest ran his hand along a wooden railing (playing with a soccer ball balancing it and rolling it) and got a 1/2" thick wooden shard going through the tip of his ring finger horizontally. His Daddy took him to the Med Express and they wouldn't remove it; too many nerve endings. It needed to be removed surgically. So the next morning, that is exactly what happened. Surgery!
At the age of four, he didn't cry. Not ever. Not when it happened, not when he went to Med Express, not when he went for the surgery, not even when he woke up from the anesthsia. He had anxiety but the story is, no tears. ---So for the last week, he's been walking around with his left hand all bandaged up. The doctor today said keep the stitches in for another four days, and we thought he'd get them out today. The thing about him is he's just so full of wonder and spunk and takes things as they come. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.
Think that's a comfortable mix of my honey and me. I have a sneaky feeling, this big adventure is just the start of it all. I've said this before, can someone inject a small dose of fear in the boy? A little bit of fear has got to be a healthy thing. Eh?
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