Where's the Blood?

These mild, soft spring days have prompted my children to live most of their at home hours outdoors. It is where they should be. Exercising their young bodies, letting their spirits soar on the fragrant spring breezes. The backyard was littered yesterday with many, many paper airplanes. It looked like it had snowed. Today, after the annual installation of the hose, was a "let's make mud" day. Oh, I gave up on the lawn and the gardens several years ago. Between the dog and the kids it is a hopeless cause.

Tonight, as I was preparing the beef stroganoff for dinner, I saw the 11 year old jumping up and down in front of the window. One of the many reasons I love this house is that I can cook and keep an eye on the backyard mayhem. The 11 year old ran into the house yelling that the 8 year old had crushed his finger and that it wasn't her fault. A quick glance out of the window confirmed that the 8 year old was headed toward the house with his mouth open and his head thrown back. I didn't get the full effect of his screams until he actually entered the kitchen. Based on the volume of the screams, I was sure that there would be vast quantities of blood involved.

It was hard to get a look at the injured digit because the patient was so busy screaming and hopping up and down. What I could see revealed that there was no blood dripping onto the floor. What a relief! The 8 year old was handed an ice pack, given a hug (which was hard considering the hopping) and asked to lay on the couch and meditate. O.K., I am a fool. This child and I have practiced meditation, ad nauseum, for just this reason. It hasn't helped yet, but I am a hopeful fool.

A quick call to the pp (parenting partner) and then I delved into my all purpose, at home, children's medical emergency reference book. Why pay for huge ER bills unless you have to, right? The book informed me that unless the child couldn't bend the finger after a half hour or if it was crooked, the child was fine. I waited the 1/2 hour, and after a very brief examination ascertained that the finger: 1) could be bent 2) was not crooked, and that the child was fine. The child would have NOTHING to do with his stupid mother's foolish diagnosis. It took the next door neighbor, a nursing student, who told him the exact same thing, for the child to calm down. What the hell do mother's know anyway?

Yes, the finger is fine and the child was soon tantruming about a totally unrelated issue. All is well.