So last night we're at church for the kids' program. Fine. DS (also known as Frick, as opposed to his sister, Frack) brings a friend. Also fine. I'm cleaning up after dinner when Friend comes in the dining room. "Um...mimi? Frick bit through his lip? And we need some ice?"
Not so fine. The words "bit through his lip" don't sound promising. I get upstairs with paper towels and ice. My son is standing over a sink, bleeding profusely from his cut lip. More fun in store: one of his front teeth is chipped in two places--the bottom's off, plus a chunk out of one side. Beautiful, and all thanks to Wii Sports. Turns out Friend rared back to whack a ball and instead whacked Frick right in the dental work. He couldn't have aimed and done a more thorough job.
Thankfully, Frick's not freaking out too badly. We get him wiped down, calmed down, find the pieces of tooth: one's on the carpet; one's still stuck in his lip. He's calm by the end of the night and goes to bed with a band-aid and his father's bracing words: "Chicks dig scars."
They don't prep you for this with all those "having a baby will be marvelous" books. Nor do they prep you for the $400 of cosmetic dentistry and nitrous oxide fun that Frick has undergone today, thank you very little.
Can I quit now?
Thursday, April 17, 2008
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3 comments:
Oh, Mimi -- blood. I always worried about dealing with stuff like that. Somehow, when it's your own kid, something kicks in so you don't pass out (or at least I haven't yet), but what a trauma. Sounds like you've got the parenting thing down, handbook omissions or not.
My current child-raising phiolosphy includes the "eventually, they grow up, move out, and deal with most of this stuff on their own."
Ouch. Poor kid, poor mom! My daughter chipped her front tooth before it was all the way grown in!
How's he doing now?????
(Poor kid... and mom.)
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