I think Max has a future as a stunt man if he could only stop tripping over his own feet. He’s amazingly coordinated and has no fear but falls down all the time. It’s not unusual to see him walk around the house with his eyes closed, bumping into walls, falling down, laughing, then getting back up to do it again.
But here’s the thing. He really is coordinated. He can ride his bike for miles and it’s a cake walk. He can dart across a balance beam with no problem. He can climb to the top of a big tree and walk on the branches (limbs? I don’t know what the fat ones are called) and it’s no big deal. Yet as soon as his two feet are back on the ground, he falls. Happily. Scraped knees, bruised shins, bumps on the head. It’s all in a day’s play for him.
In December I sat down to write our Christmas letter and joked about Max being our family stunt man. I even mentioned how we were amazed he made it 5 years without a single visit to the ER.
Of course, as fate would have it, we ended up in the ER the very day after I mailed out the Christmas letter. But it wasn’t for a broken bone or stitches like I feared would happen from the day he took his first steps leaps. The December ER visit was for breaking out into hives after painting cookie dough ornaments. So, that doesn’t really count toward a good war story from his childhood. I’m his mother and I know that chicks dig scars, not hives.
Today, on the other hand, counts. We made a visit to the ER for a head wound resulting from a stunt. Or rather, more accurately, a cut that needed attention. Well, to a boy it’s the same thing.
He crashed head-on into the corner of our stairs and I heard that unmistakable I’m-really-hurt cry. Blood was immediately present and covering his hair which, I’ve got to say, kinda freaked me out.
Luckily, after all the blood was wiped away, the wound was nothing more than a little cut but I took him to the ER just to be on the safe side because it was still pretty deep.
I guess I made a good call because it was deep enough that it needed to be closed with two staples.
Could you really allow yourself to look at that? Are you going to be alright?
There will be counselors standing by.
I’ve never seen a doctor use a stapler to someone’s head before. Again, I’ve got to say, I was kinda freaked out (not that I was actually looking) but I was just trying to keep Max distracted from the fact that someone was using a device to put metallic things with pointy edges in his head. After the needle, of course.
But isn’t this one of those cool boy stories? I mean, as his mother, I had to keep the right perspective about the whole thing. This day will be one of those days that he will likely remember from his childhood and tell about to his friends. And even though the story may change into the Legend Of The Head Wound, instead of A Cut That Needed Some Attention, I know a couple of staples can go a long way.
Just don’t show these pictures to his friends.