So, want to hear the latest drama at our house?
Last week, I accidentally slammed William's hand in the minivan door. Poor little guy. Look at him:
But seriously, it was not one of the finer moments of my life as a parent. I was taking him to get a haircut, and right as I started to shut the door, he turned around and stuck his hand right there. Argh. Normally, William's not really a big cryer. When he gets hurt or upset, he really does not cry for very long. This, however, was not one of those times. I felt terrible, terrible!
We went down to Vanderbilt Children's Medical Center and got his hand x-rayed, and fortunately, nothing was broken. I knew he was probably going to be okay when he fell asleep in the van on the way to the hospital and then asked me to hold his injured hand as we negotiated the parking garage. He was a total angel in the waiting area, and David reported that he behaved beautifully for the x-ray technician, too. (They wouldn't let me go into the x-ray room since I've got Baby Brother on board.) William's hand was bruised, mostly across the knuckles and his ring and pinky finger, but otherwise, he was unharmed. What a huge, huge relief.
It did make me feel a little better when people started telling me that they've done something like this, too. Diane even 'fessed up to slamming one of her boys' hand in her car door back in the day; neither of them are quite sure if it was Mark or David, so I figured, it didn't scar them emotionally for life. And hopefully William will be just fine, too. He's already much more cautious around the minivan door, that's for certain.
I, on the other hand, will probably have nightmares about this for years. I still remember the horrible stomach-dropping feeling from the time I fell down the stairs with William in my arms. I may never fully recover from that. Mom can still recount all the hrarrowing scrapes that my brother got into as a small child, yet my brother remembers none of them. It's always the parent who has the memory seared into his or her brain.