2 Questions I Would Love to Have the Answers to…

#1 – Why is it that so many men never develop the “accident-anticipation” portion of their brains?

#2 – What on earth made my husband think our 6-year-old could keep a secret?

Last night, while horsing around with his father and younger brother, my 6-year-old stuntman smacked the back of his head on a box-shaped coffee table. To the point where he’s got a miniature of the cut he had on his chin…oh, around 6 months ago – you can see a non-gory pic here.

Any mom can tell you that facial and scalp wounds bleed a lot. You think you finally got the bleeding to stop…ooops, nope, false alarm…there’s still some more. It’s even worse if they happen to cut and smash their head at the same time – because then you get bleeding and swelling. Along with the thoughts that make every mom want to curl up into a ball…does he have a concussion, does he need stitches, should we go to the ER, is his brain swelling?

After determining that he didn’t have the symptoms of any serious head injury (along with the fact that Connor is a hopeless boo-boo-picker, and picked the glue stitches off his chin within an hour of getting them), we decided against the trip to the ER, and instead rounded up the kids and went to CVS in search of some liquid bandage and popsicles – the go-to-boo-boo-maker-betterer. If you’ve never used it (liquid bandages, that is – if you’ve never tried popsicles, you’ve led a sadly sheltered existence), this stuff is seriously awesome – it will keep dirt and germs out of a small wound, and help keep one that is bound to get re-boo-boo-ed from opening up again. (Connor has issues with not climbing under things he’s going to smack his head on.)

No popsicles at CVS, so we head over to Stop and Shop across the street. While hubby and Connor are in the store, I decide to read the box of liquid bandage. Hubby had chosen the spray variety, thinking an applicator would aggrivate Connor’s boo-boo and basically make him flip the fuck out. Well, this spray variety was aerosol. Aerosol people! Just the thought of using an aerosol spray designed to simulate skin on the back of Connor’s head (which, by the way, is covered with hair!) made me think of that time when I was a kid that I blew a huge bubble-gum bubble and got it all over my head. Basically, hell-to-the-no.

Upon their return to the truck, I inform hubby that we will be going back to CVS and exchanging the spray for one with an applicator. When I describe the mess the spray will make, he stops arguing with me.

When hubby goes into the store, Connor says…”Mama, can I tell you a secret?”

I’m thinking, oh shit – secrets are never good!

I say, “Of course you can.”

Connor: “Not until we’re in my bedroom upstairs.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Connor: “Yes, in my bedroom upstairs.”

Me: “Okay”

We listen to music for a few minutes, and Connor decides to say “We didn’t get Hot Wheels Mama”, with a big grin on his face.

Ah-ha! The plot thickens…

So, I decide to feel around in the bag that has the popsicles, and find exactly what I expect to…a brand new Hot Wheels car.

Just a side note – for those of you who aren’t aware, Connor seems to think every day is a day for a present. This is in large part due to the fact that Daddy is constantly bringing home toys to “put away” for Christmas, but doesn’t put them away fast enough. Connor and I have many “talks” whenever we are at a store that has toys and he asks for one.

I pull the Hot Wheels out of the bag and hold it up, asking, “Isn’t this a Hot Wheels car?”

He says “Yes Mama, but please don’t put Daddy in trouble!”

To which I nearly pee myself trying not to “AWWWW!” out loud giggling like a silly little girl, and reply, “Don’t worry, that’s your Boo-Boo-Hot-Wheels, Daddy isn’t in trouble.”

I love that kid more and more every day.

P.S. The best way to tell if you need to go to the ER is if your child is talking or walking funny. The dilation of their pupils won’t be affected by a smack on the head until too long afterwards.

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Oh, the Things Kids Say!!!

Allow me to set the stage for you…

It’s 8:20pm, and after not sleeping much last night and working at home today, I’m pooped. My husband Lee just walked in the door after working all day and going food shopping, so I went out to the kitchen to help put the groceries away.

Our 4 year old, Connor, has been running around pants-less for a few weeks now in an effort to ditch pull-ups, and he is running all over the house overflowing with “Daddy’s-home-itis”…when he suddenly bolts into the room and says “I just made poop bubbles!”

WHAT???!!!

“I made poop bubbles!” he says again – quite proudly.

My husband and I look at each other with a nervous, questioning look on each of our faces, then proceed to ask Connor – “did you go poops in the toilet?” He replies “no.”

We both ask – in unison – “did you fart?”, which receives a “yes” answer.

My husband then asked a question that would never had occurred to me in a million years, while my brain is picturing various areas in the house that may or may not be covered with poop – “was it wet?” The question in and of itself was enough to stop me dead in my tracks after I had started going for the paper towels and wipes.

Thankfully – the answer was an immediate “no”. Usually any hesitation indicates that our son isn’t sure what we’re asking him or that he’s fibbing.

After a great sigh of relief and a look at each other, my husband and I both just said “poop bubbles!” and exploded into laughter…immediately after which I had to run my preggo butt upstairs to use the toilet!

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