Saia was playing in her room. There are no boxing rinks, skating rinks, trapezes hanging from the ceiling, or anything else that should cause the child such significant harm, but lo and behold, one average totally uneventful Tuesday afternoon, I hear her shriek in pain. One long, loud, shrill ear-splitting cry. Immediately followed by, "Go tell Mama I'm hurt," which at some point became their private code for this is real, stop laughing, and find me an adult with a first aid kit. But which is also a clue to me that if they can actually mutter those words, then they're probably not gonna need an ambulance.
But he dutifully comes tromping up the stairs, "Mama! Saia's hurt! I can't see if she's bleeding 'cause she won't stop yelling at me, but you better come quick!"
So I fly downstairs and swoop her into my arms and press my hand over her left eyebrow, which seems to be what she's clinging onto, and pull her into the restroom.
When I remove my hand, it's covered in blood, and Chago, who's not really known for his tact...or secrecy...or tolerance for pain, squeals at the sight and juts out into the hallway.
"What, Mama?" she says in between her crying/breathing/gasping. "Is it bleeding?"
"Oh, no, baby, it's just one of those areas that tends to bleed more than it really means to."
"Like my head?" she asks, referring to the time he "accidentally" pushed her down the stairs and cracked her head open on the banister last year.
"Uh...yeah...kinda like that, honey," I say, recalling how nervous I was about that injury then, stuck between whether to brave the emergency room and risk her contracting TB or something worse, and putting my faith in liquid adhesive bandages, while sitting in a little pool of blood and hair and tears. Ultimately, having only months prior successfully nursed the exact same injury on Chago (from the exact opposite cause -- i.e., her flinging him down the stairs), we decided to take care of it ourselves, and she appears no worse for the wear. With only that little sliver of scalp still and forever hairless.
So, off we go to the kitchen for the standard ice pack -- frozen peas. And I get her all cleaned up, and get all the blood cleared away, and realize it's not as huge as it appeared to be.
And out came the liquid adhesive bandage. Some disinfectant, a little antibiotic, and we sealed it shut forever.
And the cold washrag on her head helped a little.
The ice cold glasses of apple juice helped just a tad more.
But it wasn't until I broke out the blender and made the girl an oversize homeade smoothie with vanilla yogurt and fresh strawberries that she finally broke...