Day Care called me at 9:30 this morning and told me Bennet had a "little" accident. He had fallen and cut his eyebrow (stress level rising). I arrived at day care to find my naked son being held down by one woman while another woman was holding an ice pack against his eye. They took his clothes off so as not to get any more blood on them. The fact that Ben was so scared that he was feveriously scratching his bare stomach seemed less important that getting more blood on an already bloody shirt (urge to kill rising). As soon as he saw me, the crying got worse. I picked him up, he looked right at me, then immediately stopped crying and pointed to the toy shelf (urge to kill fading). The bleeding had basically stopped at this point. I was surprised by this until Bennet looked at me and said "I ain't got time to bleed." I heard someone then scream "get to the chopper" but realized I was now in a flashback to the movie Predator with Arnold Schwarzenhew87q (or however you spell it) and quickly rejoined the present situation.
It turns out he had fallen right into the hinge on the door causing his eyebrow to split open. When I asked, "shouldn't there be a cover over the hinge?" I was told that the other rooms had covers but the INFANT/TODDLER room didn't for some reason. I think my silence to that answer was enough for the staff to understand how utterly ridiculous that was.
I took Ben to the doctor, they took us right in, and within 20 minutes they had glued his eyebrow back together. He doesn't have a black eye yet so I didn't post a picture. With the glue on his eye, you can barely see where it was cut. I'm waiting for the real shiner to show up tomorrow.
I'm not mad at the day care. If they put these kids in a padded room with straight jackets they'd still find a way to get hurt. Babies get hurt, it's an important lesson on how to avoid getting hurt in the future. Babies are made to bounce back quickly. They forget it ever happened. It's all part of growing up. blah blah blah. As I reflect on the day, I have to say I'm actually quite proud of my little man. Those of you who know anything about my childhood will recall by the age of 6, I had had about 3-4 sets of stitches on my face, including my eyebrow. By the time I turned 20, I think it was 6 or 7 different "uh-oh's" totaling well over 20 stitches on various portions of my battered mug (what's up Mickey Rourke...amateur). Bennet passed his first test with flying colors...and no matter what anyone tells you, chicks dig scars. For his bravery and speedy recovery, I want to give Bennet a medal of honor...or at least a banana of bravery.
We knew it would happen. Our little prince is starting to get opinions, demands, and desires. That cute little pointing trick he used to do? Now it's a fast point followed with a loud "arghhh" sound (which is cool if he were a pirate, not cool since he isn't). If he doesn't get whatever it is he thinks he needs, it quickly turns into a louder arghh and possibly fake tears. This had made me realize that up until now, we were simply "taking care" of Bennet. Now, it's starting to be true "Parenting." Do you respond to his grunts and yells? Every time I do, it's positive reinforcement to do it again next time. His tamtrums are harder to ignore because rather than lie on the floor and scream, he gets up, walks over to my legs, and holds on while screaming bloody murder. I can't move, can't pick him up (don't want to reinforce the tantrum), and can't spend the next 10 minutes standing still waiting for him to stop. I end up walking in circles so he can't zero in on my pant leg and grab hold. I keep trying to reinforce the good behavior and ignore the bad but it's really hard! I thought "parenting" would be easy...
