A Bloody Mess!

Our youngest son is tough.

No, seriously. This kid can fall down, get scratched up and bleed, wipe it off on his shirt, jump up and keep going.

Which is probably good, because he is also a daredevil. Always getting himself into scrapes.

Have I mentioned before that I don't do blood well?

I get all squeamish and weak in the knees. And begin to feel my heart palpitate and I get a little faint...

But alas, this post isn't about me.

So the other day, our boys were roughhousing in the living room.

It wasn't a big deal. They had all the cushions off the sofa (as usual), and were building a 'fort' with the bottom cushions as walls, and the back cushions as a roof.

It was all fun and games until I glanced at the clock and saw it was waaay past bed time, and even though we are on summer break, this hour of the night was simply unacceptable. Besides, we had a full day ahead of us the following morning.

"Put the cushions back, boys. Now. It's way past bed-time" I said, using my most authoritative, 'you'd best do what I say' mom-voice, and went back to checking blogs.

The horsing around continued, and long-story-short, we soon had a bloody mess on our hands.

And the sofa cushions.

And a freshly washed white down blanket that we recently brought back from the laundromat because our washer is still down.

Because Judah was bleeding like a stuck-pig, and needed a place to wipe it all off, because "It'th icky."

And it was an icky, gory mess.

Head wounds. They bleeeeeeed profusely.

Now, one would think that playing with 6 inch thick foam cushions would be perfectly safe, right?
Wrong.

Not when big brother suplexes into you with a cushion, sliding up with it at the same time.

Injury city.

So you know that little tag of skin inside your mouth that holds your upper lip to your gums?

Yeah that one. (Because I know that right now you are feeling around with your tongue to find that very place to which I refer, huh? Yeah, that's what I thought. Don't deny it.)

Well, Judah no longer has one on his upper lip.

Now, he's got loose lips. Or maybe I should say lip...as in the top lip now flaps in the breeze.

Maybe not quite that bad.

Oddly, it actually did us a service, because before the 'detatching' incident occurred, it was very hard to brush his upper teeth. His lip was affixed to his gums immediately above where his front teeth meet with the gums, by a very short 'tag' of skin, which left two little pockets on either side which were infamous for gathering and storing food for later, which was especially true after eating something starchy like cheetos.

And then, as Judah would say, "It bugth me", and he would proceed to dig around up in there to relieve himself of the annoyance (much like some kids do in their nostrils, eliciting the same wretching-gagging effect from any onlookers).

Okay, so now that I've given you that disgusting visual, and since this post wasn't already gross enough, I'll go back to the whole issue of blood.

Did I already mention how much blood there was?

It was like a crime scene!

Okay, maybe not that bad, but it did get all over the place and was very gross and unfun to clean up.

And amazingly, the kid did not cry. Not once.

Until I scolded them both severely for not obeying me the first time. Because it seems that when children disobey their parents, someone always ends up getting hurt.

And then he cried. Rivers of tears. "I thowwy, mama" he said, and flung himself into my arms.

I was just about to reply when he said, "I pug-ib you."

And really, even if it did shave a year off my life, how could I not?