There were tears. There was blood. It was gory.
It all started when I sent Jonathan upstairs to get his shoes on. I know what was I thinking right?
After several moments of waiting, I ventured upstairs to check on him.
I found him, dinking around in his room. When I walked in, he looked at me and tears welled up in his eyes.
"Mommy, I hurrrrted my fingerrrr" (Jonathan is really getting into his 'r's lately)
"Jonathan, what happened?"
Leaning over to pick up a book on the floor, he looked at me and said, "the book hurrted me, the book hurrrted my fingerrrr."
|This is the offending book.|
Taking his wound in my hand, I assessed the situation. It was indeed a paper cut. There was indeed blood. The cut was right in the crease of the thumb join, and it was deep, I mean I could see sinews (ok, maybe not, since I don't actually know what sinews look like, and it really wasn't that deep, but people always say they could see the sinews, in a really bad injury).
Like any good mother, I took him to the bathroom to clean the wound.
After cleaning the cut, I realized it was still bleeding, requiring a band-aid.
Again, being the super-spectacular amazing mother that I am I was prepared. I had Curious George Band-Aids.
Jonathan was uhhh... rather resistant to the band-aid. But since I am the mother of a three-year-old I am becoming quite skilled in the art of calf-tying.
So I was able to pin him down and strap on the band-aid.
Then something amazing happened. The moment Curious George wrapped his cute little monkey face
around my son's injured thumb, his entire hand became useless.
His thumb was straight out perpendicular to the rest of his hand. His fully functioning four other fingers were wrapped in an imaginary splint, unbending.
His wrist was instantly immobilized.
Suddenly, Jonathan could not bend his elbow to put his sleeve through his jacket. And let's not even discuss what happened when his thumb reached the elastic wrist on the jacket sleeve. Have you ever seen terror in a child's eyes? Think Blair Witch project people (I shouldn't say that, because I have never really seen that movie).
He could no longer hold things in his hand, or even brace himself on the potty (this is especially dangerous).
And of course once his doting parents realized his plight, we began to tease him mercilessly. Handing him things he asked for in front of the injured hand.
To which Jonathan would cry out, "NO Daddy, my haAAND!!" "My hand is hurrted!"
Everette relentlessly tried to hold his hand, the rigid rigor mortis like hand. When Everette grasped his hand, Jonathan, gingerly, yet persistently slid Everette's thumb over so that there was a clear space for Jonathan's protruding thumb to poke through.
This paralysis lasted for two full days (minus the times he was so engrossed in what he was doing, he plumb forgot), until the wound at last was healed enough to remove the band-aid. And life has returned to normal. Whatever that means.