Okay, one trip to the emergency room: kids will be kids. But now we’ve had a second. Does that move us to “danger! danger!” territory? This morning, while I was up early, sauteeing leeks in my pajamas for our lunch with a new family, Nathaniel walked into the kitchen crying, with blood trickling down his forehead. He had apparently tried copying Katherine, who was jumping from a small table onto the couch. I gather that Nathaniel, who has been accident-prone all week, missed the couch and hit the radiator.
After I got a good look at the cut, I realized he’d need stitches, so in about ten minutes I’d called Sydney down, called a taxi, and he took over cooking (five minutes after getting up) while I whisked Nathaniel to the emergency room. He’ll be fine, and the emergency-room people were very nice to him as they glued his cut shut (they even gave him a teddy bear to take home), but I’m feeling a bit traumatized. This happened while I was on duty!
Nathaniel and I got home just after our company arrived, and we found Sydney gamely entertaining after pulling off all the cooking in my absence. I can only imagine how the scene must look to our visitors, a family with one child, and that one just a year old. We really are a bunch of hooligans! Now I’m trying to figure out whether I should pledge not to do any dishes or anything that involves taking my eyes off the kids, or whether I just need to do more praying as I work in the kitchen. While I’m sorting that out, I’m sure the kids will grow and change and we’ll move on to another phase, but I really can’t say I like seeing my little guy all banged up.