My eldest, C, is an impressive child. She is intelligent, sweet, and has the ability to turn on the waterworks like a Hollywood actress! Today was a prime example. We went to the North Georgia Outlet Mall to combine a need to shop with a desire to be outdoors. We had a lovely time letting the twins run around on their leashes while C played on the play ground. We did some shopping, then had dinner at the food court. The twins were a little difficult seeing as how they didn't really get their nap, but a little food and drink, and they calmed right down. Afterwards we walked back to the car, C dancing and twirling happily.
We get back to the car, load everyone up, and C promptly falls asleep. About halfway home, though, she awakes to a most startling and devastating discovery: she is bleeding on her arm. "Mommy!" she shrieks, startling the daylights out of me and my husband, "I'm bleeding! I'm bleeeeeding! There is BLOOD on my ARM!" Then she proceeds to emit a series of wails that would cause bansidhes to run for cover. I tell her, "Honey, just cover it with your hand, press down, and we'll check it out when we get home." She continues to wail, interjecting exclamations of despair. "Mommy, I'm going to bleed EVERYWHERE!"
I nearly had DH pull over just so I could check this. I have to admit, I'm getting worried, despite my knowledge of her penchant for drama. We get home, and she rushes out of the back seat, tripping over every bag we had back there, falls out of the car onto one knee, and drags my door open, begging me to check her arm. I'm trying to remain calm, but I see a bit of red on her hand, and I'm starting to wonder if this is the one time I SHOULD have taken her seriously. Beginning to truly doubt my status as a worthy mother, I pull her into the house, turn on the overhead light, and remove her hand. In the back of my mind, it hits me that she's going to bleed on the carpet, which is going to be murder to get out. I peer closely at the wound...a small smear of red on the back of her wrist...you know, it kind of smells like...I lick it, to the further horror of my daughter. "Sweetie," I say, trying very hard to remain calm, "Did you wash your hands after you ate the pizza?"
...Peace reigned throughout the land...
We get back to the car, load everyone up, and C promptly falls asleep. About halfway home, though, she awakes to a most startling and devastating discovery: she is bleeding on her arm. "Mommy!" she shrieks, startling the daylights out of me and my husband, "I'm bleeding! I'm bleeeeeding! There is BLOOD on my ARM!" Then she proceeds to emit a series of wails that would cause bansidhes to run for cover. I tell her, "Honey, just cover it with your hand, press down, and we'll check it out when we get home." She continues to wail, interjecting exclamations of despair. "Mommy, I'm going to bleed EVERYWHERE!"
I nearly had DH pull over just so I could check this. I have to admit, I'm getting worried, despite my knowledge of her penchant for drama. We get home, and she rushes out of the back seat, tripping over every bag we had back there, falls out of the car onto one knee, and drags my door open, begging me to check her arm. I'm trying to remain calm, but I see a bit of red on her hand, and I'm starting to wonder if this is the one time I SHOULD have taken her seriously. Beginning to truly doubt my status as a worthy mother, I pull her into the house, turn on the overhead light, and remove her hand. In the back of my mind, it hits me that she's going to bleed on the carpet, which is going to be murder to get out. I peer closely at the wound...a small smear of red on the back of her wrist...you know, it kind of smells like...I lick it, to the further horror of my daughter. "Sweetie," I say, trying very hard to remain calm, "Did you wash your hands after you ate the pizza?"
...Peace reigned throughout the land...
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