I
think we missed the mark when we bestowed the nickname of Hamlet onto
Timmy. In retrospect, we should have called him "Boo Boo" because my
sweet little boy is constantly covered with bumps, scrapes, bruises and
cut lips. He is my little carefree daredevil who lives to push the
limits. In other words, he scares the heck out of me!
Yesterday morning I was cleaning up in the kitchen while Robby was on the computer and Timmy was in the playroom. Within moments, my typical morning turned into a panicked meltdown. Timmy walked into the kitchen and handed me a bucket, filled with broken glass and covered with blood.
I yelled for Robby to bring me a towel while I lifted Timmy onto the counter to rinse his hands. He wasn't crying from pain but was definitely fretting over the blood oozing from his hands. Once cleaned up, I counted ten small cuts over both hands. Thankfully none of them were deep lacerations requiring stitches, but my goodness they were covered with blood.
Hamlet handled the clean up like a seasoned champion. Robby was an awesome big brother, offering support and even calling his Daddy at work to provide a blow-by-blow account of the morning's events. It took awhile to get the crime scene cleaned up, but we were incredibly lucky that he wasn't severely cut.
After he was cleaned up I looked at the blood covered glass pieces in the bucket he brought to me. I found a few other shards in the corner of the playroom. Apparently he had picked up a glass, broke it somehow and tried to clean up after himself. While I applaud his intent of cleaning up his messes, I really wish he would start with his trains or Legos instead of broken glass.
Yesterday morning I was cleaning up in the kitchen while Robby was on the computer and Timmy was in the playroom. Within moments, my typical morning turned into a panicked meltdown. Timmy walked into the kitchen and handed me a bucket, filled with broken glass and covered with blood.
I yelled for Robby to bring me a towel while I lifted Timmy onto the counter to rinse his hands. He wasn't crying from pain but was definitely fretting over the blood oozing from his hands. Once cleaned up, I counted ten small cuts over both hands. Thankfully none of them were deep lacerations requiring stitches, but my goodness they were covered with blood.
Hamlet handled the clean up like a seasoned champion. Robby was an awesome big brother, offering support and even calling his Daddy at work to provide a blow-by-blow account of the morning's events. It took awhile to get the crime scene cleaned up, but we were incredibly lucky that he wasn't severely cut.
After he was cleaned up I looked at the blood covered glass pieces in the bucket he brought to me. I found a few other shards in the corner of the playroom. Apparently he had picked up a glass, broke it somehow and tried to clean up after himself. While I applaud his intent of cleaning up his messes, I really wish he would start with his trains or Legos instead of broken glass.
No comments:
Post a Comment