By the time I flew my parents' nest, I had been to the emergency room all of twice.
At not quite 13 months, Lucas has already met that record and is, I fear, aiming for more.
Today Mr. Trillwing was cheering Lucas as the little guy toddled around the living room with the aid of his little pushcart. Unfortunately, one of the wheels snagged on something and Luke toppled over, striking his forehead against the corner of the TV stand.
In order to calm the wailing, Mr. Trillwing took Luke into the bedroom and cuddled with him on the bed. Only then did he notice the blood. Blood on the carpet. Blood on Luke's blocks. Blood on the sheets. Blood on the comforter. Blood on Luke's clothes.
So he tried to call my cell phone, which I never seem to hear, and even though it was in my pocket and set to vibrate and maximum ring volume, I didn't notice it was ringing. Bad mama!
Accordingly, Mr. Trillwing took Luke to the emergency room by himself. I listened to a message he left on the home phone and I met them there just as they were signing out. Mr. Trillwing was entertaining the doctors and nurses (who had apparently earlier been impressed by the sheer volume of Luke's screaming) and Luke was happily receiving a sticker from a nurse.
So what's the damage? I can't believe Mr. Trillwing snapped a "before" picture, but here are the before and after shots. Note the blood on Luke's clothes--you can't even see all of it in this picture.
The ER folks closed the wound with some kind of glue (Dermabond?) in lieu of stitches:
Within 10 minutes of arriving at home, Luke was laughing and playing again. What a good kid.