That’s how many times I’ve seen a child of mine with blood running down their face. I’ve been a parent for almost 8 years (mind-boggling as that fact may be). Today was only the second time I’ve witnessed a child of mine come screaming through a doorway with blood pouring from their head / face. Horrifying as it is, I suppose with 3 boys I should feel fortunate that it hasn’t even been once per kid. Strangely enough, the one (DS2) that I’d think the most likely candidate for this sort of thing – given his general wildness and complete lack of caution, is the only one who’s never (yet) bled profusely.
This afternoon, I was summoned with “you have to come see our super-cool big weighing scale” one minute to “Moooooooom, <insert shrieking here> [DS2] hit me! <more shrieking>” 4 minutes later. Just long enough for me to get back into my bed and back to contemplating whether or not today might actually be the day I die – DH was kind enough to pass along whatever it was making him sick last week. So, I thought the complaint and shrieking was the usual sibling scrap variety of which I am disinclined to mediate – even when I’m feeling fine.
Then I hear DH mildly freaking out so I get up to go look. There is DS1 with him and DH holding their hands to DS1’s head and the blood is dripping and running down their hands and arms. Since DH has DS1 (and I don’t want to freak him out by me freaking out) I follow the trail of blood to find the perpetrator. Only he’d run away to hide on the backside of the house.
The trail of blood led to the site of the “cool weighing scale” which was a long board balancing on a toy garbage truck with just the right combination of broken pieces of concrete block on each end to make it balance with neither end touching the ground. I finally found DS2 and got the story. Apparently, despite having been told, collectively, at least 14,349 times not to throw rocks (etc.) at each other, DS2 had a moment where it seemed like a great idea to throw one of the concrete block pieces over the scale. The fact that his brother was sitting there in the line of fire, did not seem to have occurred to him. Ah, impulse control. One does not truly appreciate that quality until one deals with 4 year olds who do not possess it.
We finally got the bleeding to stop. It looked pretty bad – kinda like a hole in his head up on the “top corner” but he started to freak out in earnest when I suggested stitches so… I guess he’ll just have a scar. He seems fine now, after laying down for a couple hours. He practically passed out on me when I was getting him cleaned up. And I’m happy to report he had the good sense not to bleed on the living room rug. Also, happy to report that I have one more reason to love my Benjamin Moore Regal Matte paint. Dried blood just wipes right off it. Just like wiping it off the tile, and the tub and the counter and the laminate floor. I this we’ll need more rain to get it out of the driveway, though. 😦