Yesterday, at our little playground, Turtle was playing with some other kids and having a great time. I had to steer the boys away from the two thorn bushes on the periphery of the park.
I don't know whose idea it was to put thorn bushes in the park, but that person should be drawn and quartered. Seriously. Thorn bushes? Next to a jungle gym? Idiot.
At one point, the kids began playing with some small bushes in a corner, the kind with soft leaves that Turtle loves to bat around.
I should mention that at this point, Turtle was a little tired. I could see it in his eyes and in how he wobbled as he walked.
And then he fell... into the bush...
Blood.
Yes, blood.
I freaked out.
Okay, not freaked out, but I grabbed him and carried him as calmly as I could to the stroller to see if I could clean him up.
And there on his cheek was the tiniest scrape made by one of the branches Turtle fell into. And I guess my son is a bleeder.
Within minutes it stopped and he was fine. His body took over and he soothed himself in his way, thumb in mouth and hand caressing his eyebrow, and he soon fell asleep... just long enough for dad to wander through the Harley Davidson shop before hitting the grocery store.
This was our first major scrape. We've had a dislocation and bumps on the head, some falls and some knocks, but this was our first experience with blood. And although I wasn't able to protect him from it initially, the lesson learned is that any bump or scrape can be fixed and unless it's major, nothing is major. A scrape on the face is okay. He'll be fine.
Besides, chicks dig scars.
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