In Stitches

I feel like Lily has been the headliner on my blog lately, but today's post can't be helped. This morning O and L were outside helping their dad shovel the driveway, when I heard Lily screaming (which is honestly not that unusual), but then Phil brought her in with blood running all down her face proclaiming, "She's bleeding!" (very unusual). She had been reaching for her shovel and slipped on the porch, knocking face first into the brick that juts out on the front of the house. I've tried to recreate it in my mind and think what are the odds? But that's her story and she's sticking to it. She says it hurt worse than having your leg chopped off.

First aid was administered, and I thought the gash looked pretty deep (in my inexpert opinion) so I took her to the doctor (over the ER--thanks for the tip, Heather) when his office opened. Dr. Johnson was great, and Lily was a real champ, and according to the nurse was very good for a 4-year-old and held very still, though there were a lot of tears. I amazingly enough held it together though the children's songs I was singing were often warbly. Henry was thankfully oblivious to the drama and wandered around the room happily munching pretzels.

I think there were four or five stitches. A pink camo bandaid, and the promise of a toy at the store, plus lunch out made it a pretty sweet deal. If our little family history is any indication, we have about two to three years before Henry requires stitches, so I guess we'll enjoy the peace and quiet until then.