My cousin Janeen called the other day and upon hearing my harried voice asked “are you busy?” I answered, “Well right now I’m in the middle of making lunch for my Boy Scout Patrol and trying to clean blood out of the living room carpet.” To which she replied, “What did Zach do now?”
Yep! Anyone who knows my youngest kid will realize how apt that statement was. And she was right, the blood belonged to Zach. But in all fairness, this time it wasn’t his blatant disregard for human life that caused the bloodshed. No, it was his father.
Jeff had purchased a 4 lb. iron splitting wedge for Zach and thought he’d surprise him by sticking it in the pocket of his overalls while they were standing by the kitchen counter. What he did not realize, however, was that there was no bottom to the pocket. The wedge crashed, pointed side down and punctured his foot.
This happened at 10:30 am on Saturday morning and it was still oozing blood when he went to bed that night. We talked about bringing him in to the ER, but the skin around the gaping hole was gone so there was nothing to stitch together. We suspected he had broken a toe but the only thing the doctor can do for that is tape his toes together. And Zach, understandably, wants little to do with doctors.
Bad parents that we are, we let him call in to work, hobble his way to the couch, put an ice pack on it to keep the swelling down and periodically change his dressing when the blood soaked through.
One day later, he’s doing well. He’s a tough kid. When I told him that he said “yeah, I’m used to pain.” Unfortunately, that’s the truth of the matter.