This morning walking to church Elijah fell. Rocky road, 5 year old running in flip flops, it happens quite a bit actually. You’d think he’d learn. I was a ways behind carrying Ezra and Brant called my cell and I could hear Elijah screaming on the phone. When I got there, a whole crowd of people were standing around looking at the little white boy with blood gushing out of his head. He had quite the gash on his forehead, which thankfully, he couldn’t see. What he was screaming about was the little scrape on his knee... it was almost funny, except we all ended up missing church, trying to get Elijah cleaned up and calmed down.
When I was a little girl, I was a big wimp. I couldn’t swallow pills (until I was in college, sad to say) couldn’t handle getting splinters taken out, and couldn’t stand needles. I’m still a big wimp, but I did do childbirth 3 times with no epidural, so have pretty much gotten over it.
Elijah is totally my child. I am now really, really sorry for all the screaming and grief I gave my parents... but they should be happy to know I am getting it all back. (Although, he is now a great pill taker - can pop his 4 anti-malaria pills on his own each week.) Tonight one of the cuts on his hand was still dirty and all the scrubbing Brant had tried earlier in the day hadn’t done much to clean it. I called a friend to borrow some of her prized hydrogen peroxide (can’t get it here, but I am definitely ordering some next time someone comes to visit!) and it took both Brant and I to hold him down while we doused his hand with the stuff multiple times. But STILL it was full of dirt, so I decided to be a grown-up and stop being squeamish and tackle the mess with the tweezers. Brant held Elijah down and I dug around til all the dirt and gunk were out. The neighbors came over wondering what the crazy white people were doing to their screaming, desperate child. But it’s all clean now and covered with a nice Woody and Buzz band-aid. (Thanks, Grandma!)
Tonight as we were putting Elijah in bed I warned him that if he doesn’t toughen up and get over the whole wimp can’t handle pain thing, he would have a kid just like himself someday. Then I think I will just laugh.... probably like my parents are doing now. :)
Elijah, I am so sorry to hear about your accident. I hope the Woody and Buzz band-aid helped. I can tell you, if that had been your dad, the band-aid would NOT have helped one little bit. Your dad was a pretty tough little kid when it came to getting hurt, but it turns out, he was TERRIFIED of band-aids and I don't know why. Once, when he was about five, he had to have some blood drawn for a test. I held him on my lap while the technician put the needle in his arm and took the blood she needed for the test. As I held him, tears were streaming down my face for my little boy. However, your daddy never whimpered or even made a sound. The technician and I couldn't believe our eyes. We were both so proud of him. She went to the cupboard and brought out a very special "little boy" band-aid, thinking that would be a nice reward for his bravery. The moment he saw the band-aid, he started screaming at the top of his lungs for no apparent reason. Needless to say, we skipped the band-aid!!! We returned to the lab a couple of months later for another blood test. I wasn't thinking about what happened the last time as I had chalked it up to coincidence...maybe his terror had just been a delayed reaction. Not so...the very same thing happened again when the band-aid came out. The technician said, "How strange! I had a little boy in here about a few months ago and the same thing happened!" I said, "Yes, it was this same little boy!" From that time on, we tried to find alternatives to band-aids when your daddy got hurt. By the way, how is your stock of "fun" band-aids holding up? Do you need me to send more??? My love to you, Sweetheart. Ask Daddy to kiss your boo-boo for me. Love ~ Grandma
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