Tuesday, September 26, 2006

In other news

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.


Fang Bastardson said...

Your husband is obviously a bad, bad man and an unfit father. If I ever run into him, I'll kick his ass clear on back to last Thursday on principle.

I swear to God, you have to have a license to have a dog...

Have you alerted CPS, or shall I?

Anonymous said...

both your boys are troupers!

ArticulateDad said...

As a kid, I was so prone to splitting my head open (I think I had stitches in my head three times by the time I was ten), my mother thought I had a plan to inscribe a Star of David on my forehead in scar tissue.

The best story was when we were visiting a furniture store, and I was ... just ... fascinated by this lovely 3-inch thick, glass table top, until suddenly and unexpectedly, I lurched forward on the corner of it. Imagine a screaming 6 year old, a puddle of blood on a glass table, oh, and just for kicks, lets pretend there was one of those fluffy, plush, white rugs underneath.

Breena Ronan said...

Ouch! Cuts on the head bleed a lot. It probably isn't as bad as it looked. :)

Breena Ronan said...

Of course now everytime you take him to a public place you will have to tie a hat to his head until the wound gets less noticable. Only I don't think Lucas will put up with that.

Anonymous said...

Brave Mr. Trillwing!

Yankee, Transferred said...

Poor, poor fellow. At least not the dreaded stitches-I had to hold Younger Daughter down once while they stitched her face...it was HORRIBLE