We got to experience a Manning family first today - the Emergency Room! C is growing fast and becoming daring. And even more troubling is that she tends to be the traditional blond. She's clumsy, continually bumping into things and hurting herself. It's almost as if there is no thought process upstairs as she moves around the house. Andy and I have been working hard to teach her the difference between careful and careless. She understands; we just haven't seen the application part yet.So this morning we were doing our regular Thursday morning thing. The kids and I were in our bathing suits. They were playing while I was soaking in the rays, reading a book. C was climbing and jumping - a new favorite activity. At one point, she climbed the rock wall and shouted, "Watch this Mom!" when she reached the top. I looked up, assuming she was going to walk three steps forward and jump like she had been doing. Nope. Almost instantly I realized the silly girl was going to attempt to jump backwards! It was one of those slow-motion, NOOOO, moments. But it was too late; she was gone.
Screams, screams, screams. A few more screams. I walked around the playset to find her face down on the ground, crying. I helped her up, and all I could see was blood. I couldn't even tell where the blood was coming from. When M, J, and A saw all the blood, they joined in on the screams. It's in these moments that having a husband working from home is a huge blessing. I quickly walked C inside while saying over my shoulder, "Calm down. I'll take care of C. Dad will be with you in just a minute." As I went in, Andy went out.
I got the blood cleaned up enough to see that C had bit the mess out of her tongue. She bumped her chin on the way down, and chomped down real hard. This wasn't my plan for the day. I was supposed to be outside, sitting in the warm sun, sipping my tea, reading my book, not taking a bleeding child to the ER. But off we went. Thankfully they weren't too busy, and we were seen shortly.
C was so mature about the whole thing. She wasn't crying. She even said it didn't hurt. Her words to the nurse: "It's not too bad. I'm okay." Poor thing overheard me say "stitches" to Andy and was terrified. She did NOT want to have to get stitches. The ER doc looked, and looked again. Left the room to research. Came back, poked around with the long Q-tip AGAIN, for the umpteenth time. And he decided no stitches. His analysis was that it would heal nicely on its own. WOO HOO! As soon as he left the room C asked, "Mom. Is that right? Did I hear him say no stitches?" She was beyond thrilled. And so was I.
Then we headed to McDonald's for a milkshake to make us both feel better. At least now we can say that we've done the ER.
