Tuesday, March 13, 2012

That's Mommy's knife!

And just like that, and thanks to Megan, a phrase was coined. The original phrase has 'cheese' instead of 'knife', but that's a long story. That was back when I used to eat cheese, now I just dream about eating cheese.
That's an even longer story...back to the knife.

Life would be really boring without a little drama, right? Right.
Earlier this evening, after picking the kids up from their after-school program, I was piddling around upstairs while Alexander was supposedly doing homework. Clifford had already taken off to run wild through the neighborhood since he didn't have homework (according to him), when I heard a *bang* followed by a blood curdling scream. A scream only a mother could know. Something bad just happened.

Alexander was in a full scale panic saying he had cut his hand and there was BLOOOOODDDDD!!! (that was him screaming).
I, being the eldest child of a hardcore nurse, said very calmly, "okay okay, let me look, calm down."
At first all I saw was a little bit of blood on his left index finger. No biggie, right? Then I opened his hand revealing a nice, deep gash in the webbing between his thumb and index finger.


So I dragged him to the kitchen sink and made him rinse under water for a sec so I could survey the carnage.
"Yep, you need some stitches little man."

'WHHAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!" (that was Alexander, not me).

I called Richard to make sure he was on his way home before leaving the door unlocked for Clifford and off we went to Urgent Care.

Please no shots, please no shots, please no shots.....

Urgent care was almost empty so I foolishly thought we would be in and out. Almost two hours and several desperate pleas from Alexander to "not give him any shots" later, he was all bandaged up and we were out of there. Thank God he managed to choose the absolute sharpest knife in the block, made for easy stitching.

Thanks for the knife set, Megan! It was a good Christmas gift. Nice and sharp.

The moral of the story...don't touch Mommy's knives!

Interestingly enough, I have a scar in the exact same place on the exact same hand from a knife doing the exact same thing-- attempting to cut an apple when I was a kid.
Alexander likes that we will both have matching scars.

Thumbs up, y'all!

....and Clifford lied about not having homework.

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