day 51: blood on the cross

We were playing in the sunroom when boomer started her inevitable guarding of the house which involves a series of loud, screeching yelps at the birds who land in the tree outside our window. Disciplining her (holding her muzzle and speaking to her in a low, calming voice with berating words) I missed the fact that bean had opened the box holding the metal cross. I turned around and bean had managed to slit open his toe with the cross; blood painted his little foot and continued to gush out of the gash. He was so brave. And oblivious. He cried when I took the cross away from him but not before. He was happy on the counter playing with the bananas and the basil and the assorted oils while I squeezed his toe to try to stem the bleeding. He didn’t even notice when I drenched his foot with hydrogen peroxide.

I called the doctor, made sure he was up-to-date on his Tetanus shot, and thirty minutes later the blood finally slowed to a trickle. The cut is not deep enough for stitches, so I dabbed on some antibiotics and a bandaid which promptly fell off.

All I can say is this little kid is one brave boy. He’s awesome, he’s wonderful, he’s a rascal. And I’m so blessed to love him.

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