Juni visited the childrens' hospital emergency room for the first time. He'd wanted to "start and fight and play rough" with Mommy, but I'd decided that was not a good idea. He's been stranded in our home for three days because of the storm, and had entirely too much energy to play rough with me.
I startled him when I said no, he fell back, and hit his eyelid on the wooden steps. I scooped him up, said everything was okay, and then started to give the ceremonial kiss.
And that's when I saw it. Blood. A lot of blood. My head spinned, my vision blurred, and I yelled for Jasen to come get Juni before we both hit the floor. I take after my mother in that I do not deal well with blood. After the rush of adrenaline leaves, I hit the floor.
Mixing blood with tears means there was blood down Juni's chest, on the kitchen counter, on Jasen, and on me. After an afternoon a the hospital, the doctor decided to tape the one-inch gash.
I was exhausted. And it was still storming outside. So Jasen drove the car to the front. I opened the door, and turned to put Juni in his car seat. That's when, true to form, the wind gushed and the door crashed into my poor toddler's head.
I couldn't believe I'd single-handily injured my son twice in one afternoon. But poor Juni, he shed a few tears while I latched his straps, and then slapped a Thanksgiving sticker on my hand and rubbed my arm.
"Here's my ticker, mommy. You need dis. You're a good Mommy. I lub you. I get a double hamburger wif cheese?"
At that point, I would have given my little man absolutely anything.
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