Things Not to Say to Your Injured Child

I got up this morning with a chest-cold. I put in a load of laundry. (I relate laundry in my life to Groundhog Day--I get it done, get on top of it and then wake up to another pile.) Then, I went to turn on the news. No luck--our dish is full of snow.

Jessi and I walked into Target yesterday and we both commented on how warm it was--we saw sunshine. When we walked out it was starting to snow. I appreciate that the snow helps us out of a drought, but oh, how I love Spring.

While I have a bit of time without my precious DirectTV I will share with you our ER story for the week.

Wednesday, Andrew and Bev went to jr. swim team. They go to our local pool three times a week. It has been great--they have both improved so much, and it is great exercise. I usually go, but Mike took them that day. They came home and told me that a kid had pooped in the pool, so when they got there they couldn't swim. They went outside and ran some laps. Upon entering the pool, Andrew's foot got scraped on a metal door. They bandaged him up and they all came home.

We had dinner and Mike went to play ball. Roundabouts 10 p.m. I was getting Andrew ready for bed when I took off the bandaid. He says I "freaked out." I didn't freak out, I just sort of gasped. It was a big cut--the first layer of skin was cut through. I knew he needed stitches. I told him so and he said he just wanted to go to bed, that the people at the pool told him to put a butterfly bandaid on it.

I asked him if he wanted Mom or Dad to take him. He wanted me, so we headed out to InstaCare. They closed at 10 so we went to the E.R.

The doctor confirmed that indeed, he needed stitches.

Andrew is very sensitive. I knew this would be quite an experience for the both of us. He was teary and nervous. We said a quick prayer.

The doctor asked if he had ever had stitches before. We told him about when Andrew was four and tripped at the top of the stairs and bit his tongue in half. Getting stitches in his tongue--now that's an experience I could have done without.

So, the hardest part of the stitches was getting the shots to numb it. He was on the cot and I was leaning over hugging him. I told him to squeeze me hard. He did. He was hugging me hard and was holding onto my bra strap. Then my bra strap broke. The kid is strong and I need a new bra.

After the shots, he was obsessing about the stitches. I was trying to comfort him. I told him that the needle is like a fish hook.

Wrong thing to say.

He replied, "A fish hook? A fish hook? I wanna get outta here."

I turned the TV on to serve as a distraction. The only thing on was George Lopez. Let's just say it was not programming suited for children. I muted it after the hooker jokes. They finally came in to do the stitches. We had waited for quite a while after the shots, so he started feeling it toward the end.

We both finally got to bed at 1:15 in the morning. I got him tucked in and turned on his music. I told him I love him and went out the door. Then he said, "Mom, thanks for letting me squeeze you--did I hurt you?" I told him that he didn't, that he was brave and that I was proud of him.

Then he said, "Can I give you some advise."

I told him he could.

He said, "Next time, don't talk about fish hooks."

Good advice.