Scarface

 bandaids

     My poor son has done it once again.  Over the weekend, he managed to add even more boo-boos to his already expansive collection of scrapes, cuts, and bruises.  How did he get this latest addition, you ask?  Well, even though it looks like he was in some type of horrible motorcycle accident, he actually got it by simply walking. Yes, walking.  I’m afraid that we’re eventually gonna have to start referring to him as “Scarface.”

     Late Saturday afternoon, we decided to take the kids over to the pool to swim for an hour before dinner.  (It seemed like such a harmless idea at the time.)  Shortly after we got there, I ran into another mom that I know and was deep in conversation with her, while my husband was keeping an eye on the kids at the waterslides.  As is usually the case, about ten minutes into the conversation, my husband made his way over to me with my screaming, bleeding son in his arms. I immediately stopped my chat to find out what in God’s name had happened now.  Visions of the emergency room were dancing in my head.

     Apparently, my son was walking on the pool deck, not paying a bit of attention to what might be in his pathway, and ran into another kid. I don’t know if his feet got tangled in his towel or what, but he ended up doing a nasty face plant right on the concrete.  Unfortunately, my husband didn’t see it happen either and had to get the choppy story from the few random mothers who did.  And through my son’s hysterical cries, it was hard to hear exactly what had actually transpired.  

     I scooped him up from my husband and made my way over to a chair so that I could better distribute some TLC.  I wanted to check the inside of his mouth to make sure he hadn’t broken a tooth, but he was so upset that he wouldn’t let me even attempt to pry open his upper lip.  He had scraped the skin off his forehead, nose, upper lip, chin and even his little shoulder. It broke my heart to just look at him. So, I decided to play it safe rather than sorry and carried him over to the lifeguard/first-aid station.

     Of course, it’s standard procedure to ask a bunch of questions about the incident, all of which I couldn’t answer, because neither my husband nor I saw it all go down.  Maybe it was just my own guilt playing tricks on me, but I suddenly felt like I was being judged as the worst parent around for being so clueless.  After a brief examination, we discovered that my son’s teeth did appear to be in tact, thank God. So, the lifeguards filled out their little forms, gave us an ice pack and band-aids and sent us on our way.

     After serving him his absolute favorite meal (breakfast for dinner), followed by ice cream with sprinkles, he had completely cheered up. We’ve been glopping the hell out of his boo-boos with Neosporin ever since, in hopes that he doesn’t scar.  I feel like it looks even worse with each passing day, though.  The poor little guy is just an accident waiting to happen. Just exactly how are you supposed to protect your child from tripping over his own feet?  I’ve said before that he desperately needs to wear body armor, so I guess that now I’m gonna have to search for some that’s also waterproof.

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2 Responses

  1. Have you had his eyes checked? Chandler kept tripping and falling, and when we took her for a school physical (can’t remember if it was kindergarten or first grade) we discovered she was blind as a bat!

    Find a pediatric opthamologist (not one of those one hour eye glass stores) and have his eyes checked.

    • We had to have his eyes checked at a peds opthamologist before kindergarten, and his vision is fine. Unfortunately, he’s inherited his dad’s clutsiness. 😦

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