We went to our neighbors’ house after dinner so Maggie could play with their dogs and Nick could look at the dogs through the fence – as that is as close as he wants to get to them, thankyouverymuch.
I was patting his head and ruffling his hair in a typical loving-mother fashion. And I felt something crusty. I wondered which part of what meal I was about to unearth. And this is what I saw:
My son has a head wound. I have no idea where it came from, when, or if it had help -like from a stick wielding sister. I had to have Maggie hold his hair to get the photo, because my claw-like fingers looked like I was picking him up by his scalp. I am already exposing myself to DCFS, don’t want to make matters worse.
I know it’s from today, because there is matching blood on his shirt. I would like to think that I would have noticed at dinner, but I can’t be 100% sure. Maggie seems to think that he hit himself in the head with a stick (which means she totally did it, or he really did hit himself with a stick – I can’t be sure.) I do know he never cried or complained or made it known in any way. Oh, what I would give for that pain tolerance.
Maggie had a ball playing with the dogs. This one is named Cisco. The non-pictured dog is called Dusty. Dusty and Cisco are reasons #76 and #77 why we don’t need a dog. We have two free ones we can play with, yet not feed, scoop poop, pay vets, and on and on and on.
And I couldn’t resist this one. It’s was her best mean face when it was time to leave. It was all in jest because she knew I was taking her picture. I didn’t even tell her it was going to freeze that way.