A bloody fright

So, last Tuesday, Britt came home after school and we were puttering around the house until it was time to go to a(nother) classmate's birthday party.

I was in the living room when I heard the thump.

Britt came in wailing hysterically, so I scooped her up and checked her over for blood or broken bones but couldn't see anything wrong. I asked what was hurt and she indicated her bottom, so I sat and rocked her until the crying subsided and she hopped off to go play.

And then I saw the blood all over my shirt.

Obviously, my injury-checking skills suck. I had checked all over her front, but not her back, and that's why I missed the fact that blood was gushing out of the back of her head. I wiped some of it off to find where it was coming from, which turned out to be a gnarly one-inch gash. And then I flipped smooth out very quietly so I wouldn't scare her.

Before heading off to the minor emergency clinic, I asked her to show me what she hit her head on. You know where our entry hall takes a right-hand turn into the living room? Well, the wooden wainscot forms a pretty sharp corner there and, through some combination of stocking feet, glazed tile floor and careening about like a hyperactive monkey, she apparently managed to fall backward against it.

So we went to the clinic and she was very brave. The doctor put a topical anesthetic on it first, then cleaned out the wound before putting four staples in it (instead of stitches so he wouldn't have to cut any hair), and she didn't even whimper until the last staple was going in.

She got her staples removed this afternoon. When Mikey came home from work, she ran to the door yelling, "Poppa! Poppa! I got my simples out!"

That's my hard-headed girl.