I forgot to tell you about Seven's head injury. No, really.
Today I was talking to my friend Cathy at church. We were getting ready to leave for the day and my kids were rough-housing. Someone tripped someone else (the kids were a wee bit fuzzy on the deets) and somehow Seven's head got slammed into the wall. Apparently the corner of the wall.
I heard it hit but didn't think much about it. They're boys after all. He teared up a little but he does that a lot so, again, I didn't worry overmuch. I sent the kids to separate corners and gave them the MOM EYE, and then continued my conversation with Cathy. On the way to the car I reminded the boys that that's WHY we shouldn't wrestle--because eventually someone is going to get hurt.
We were in the car on the way to Chili's for lunch when Ten said, "Uh, Mom? His head is bleeding."
Seven: I just rubbed my head and now there's blood on it. See?
I've never been one to faint at the sight of blood, but it's generally not coming out of my wee baby child's HEAD!
We went to Chili's anyway because he said he still wanted to go and I figured How bad can it be? Um, pretty bad. As in, hair matted with blood bad. As in, It's still bleeding bad. He started crying when I tried to clean it in the restaurant's bathroom but he didn't want to go home either. That boy does love his chicken crispers.
Man, this raising boys thing isn't for wimps.