A Time for Owies

April has been brutal for Little Sir. If March goes out like a lion, well, that lion attacked my guy all of April.

He fell off the couch at Grandma’s and hit the coffee table. This opened a 1 inch gash in his eyebrow. The ER Doctor elected for the super glue treatment but our family doctor later said it should have been stitches. Hoping Little Sir gets his dad’s eyebrows so the scar will be hidden. Or we’ll have to come up with a dashing story to tell because the couch at Grandma’s isn’t really that great.

Then he fell at daycare and had a black eye on the other side with a little cut.

I got vitamin E oil and both those of those were healing pretty well. Little Sir was almost fully scab-free.

And  then, ON THE VERY LAST DAY OF APRIL, he decided to leap down the step that he has previously navigated very carefully and I was a millisecond too late to catch him as I realized he was not slowing down— and he skidded to a stop. On his face. On cement.

These are just the facial injuries. The bruises and scrapes on his knees would make this post too long.

He is a rough and tumble boy. And for April, emphasis on the TUMBLE.

Ecclesiastes talks about a time for this and time for that. I’m hoping April was the time for Owies and May can be a time for…non owies? Lottery winnings?

If this doesn’t stop, we’re going to have to go union around here and post one of those signs about X many days injury free. Little Sir wouldn’t be motivated with a monetary bonus. I guess we could try watermelon. He loves watermelon. Or donuts.

So now it’s May. I picked him up from his morning activity this morning and groaned when I saw another bruise on his head. Oh no! It’s May! Come on, give this kid a break (and mama too)!

Turned out it was just peanut butter.

10 Comments

  1. Poor little guy. I am hoping for better days for him. Gary fell off grandma’s day bed which was about couch high, just 3 days after learning to walk. He broke his leg. He didn’t even try to walk again for 3 more months.

  2. Juliet

    Here’s wishing you a month of lottery winnings! Woo-hoo! And here’s a toast to little boys who refuse to learn the meaning of fear! (But who hopefully develop a reasonable amount of caution, eventually.)

  3. Phyllis Olson

    Little Sir must have inherited his ability to acquire owies. When Little Sir’s daddy was small, we said he had a reserved seat in in the doctor’s office during daylight hours, and more than once the doctor often opened his office late at night for emergencies. Like the night Little Sir’s daddy tipped the organ stool, fell on his face, and bit a hole through his lower lip. I called the doctor who opened his office for us to come in for stitches. Or the day Little Sir’s daddy went sledding with a neighbor and his child. Somehow the sleds went out of control and the runner cut a big gash just below Little Sir’s daddy’s eye. The neighbor’s wife was a nurse and she used her first aid skills but strongly suggested we visit the doctor. That was the day the doctor spent the day at the hospital 20 miles away, but his wife assured us that we could come to his office when he got back at 9 p.m. No one else was at home to stay with Little Sister so she had to go along to the doctor’s office. I acted as the doctor’s assistant while Sister watched intently. First came the disinfectant, the shots to anesthesize the area, then the needle and thread to stitch up the cut. Little Sir’s daddy was an old hand at this, so he took things in stride. But little Sister wasn’t so sure and watched wide-eyed. When it was over, Sister asked, “Is that all?’ “Yes,” the doctor answered.” “Too bad it wasn’t worse,” declared Sister. Chances are that Little Sir, like his daddy, probably won’t remember the owies and the scars will fade, and Sister has forgotten her desire to see a few more stitches. It’s the mother’s love that remembers.

  4. Pingback: Toddler-like Faith (part 2) | Prayers and Cocktails with Charise Olson

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