Bill came home last night!  Of course, his flight was delayed.  Of course, the computer showed that the hop from North Carolina was in the air, but delayed, even though he was still sitting on the runway, waiting for clearance to go.  Of course, I needed to leave my house around the same time that the plane left North Carolina so I could get there on time.  So, of course, this meant I was at the airport about 2 hours before he was.

But that’s OK, because the airport has a bus ride from economy parking to the terminal, and my kids think that is fun.  So, we rode the bus and walked around and looked at the shops and had some ice cream.  We found the chapel, which made all my kids laugh because there was nothing whatsoever religious about it.  If you appeal to all spiritualism, you appeal to no spiritualism.  They should have called it “The Quiet Room with Some Religious Books Contained Therein.”  In another section of the airport, Peter admired a model of the airport, and could have spent more time there but for his impatient sisters.  Not that we had anywhere we needed to rush off to.  And then we found some windows where you could see part of the runway, so we watched for planes to take off.  I was thinking it was time to head back to the car and move it to the more accessible short-term parking, and was happy that the time had passed so pleasantly.

It was too good to be true.

Behind me, I heard a thud, and I turned as George started crying.  He must have slipped or jumped from the couch and took the glass coffee table to the center of the forehead.  Head wounds always bleed a lot.  Deep gashes bleed even more.  I hugged him to my, fortunately, purplish-red shirt and found the nearest restroom.  With Katie’s help, I managed to do wound compression while mopping blood off his face, neck, hands, and arms and my face, neck, hands and arms.  One glance told me that this was not a steri-strip or glue-it-up wound.

According to the posted schedule, we had 40 minutes or more until Bill landed.  I sent him a text for him to get when he landed, and started moving purposefully toward the bus stop, which was just about as far away from where we were as you could get.  And then we waited for the bus.  For a long time.  Just as the bus pulled up, Bill texted that they were on the ground.  By this time, George’s head was only oozing, so I decided to wait for Bill to get through baggage, and then we all went to the ER together.  Family fun.

Just a warning: if the ER docs say that the numbing gel will be enough for a little kid, don’t believe them.  A sedative would have been good.  Even wrapped in a sheet, it took two of us to keep him down.  I know it hurt him.  Thoughts of Civil War surgeries filtered through my head as I tried, ineffectively, to comfort my screaming child.  At least it wasn’t an amputation.

Five stitches and 90 minutes later, we were heading for home.  All’s well that ends well, I suppose.

Bill picked up the boys this morning.  They’ve spent the last week at Scout camp.  Had a fabulous time, as expected.  But we’re all home now.  And it feels so nice to have everybody here.  This coming week will be busy, but then we take July off.  I can’t wait.

The last scar-free picture I'll have of him.

The last scar-free picture I’ll have of him.

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6 thoughts on “

  1. Oh, poor baby George. His poor little forehead. What the heck is a glass table doing in an airport terminal? I read my husband your account and he said the airport is trying to look like somebody’s living room, which is absurd considering how little it actually is like somebody’s living room. He said he would be in touch with an attorney over that (and he has never contacted a lawyer over anything).

    • There is a hotel attached to the airport and we had wandered in there and had been checking out their ballroom. The airport itself did not have glass coffee tables, but the hotel, naturally, was trying to look like a living room. George was behind me on the couch. We doesn’t normally have a problem getting down, so I wasn’t watching him. I accept responsibility for that.

  2. Poor George! It happens, Michelle. He’s little so the scarring will be better than if he were older. Maybe he will have one those boy band haircuts….jk, jk.. Anyway, we have actually stayed at that hotel a couple of times just for the fun of it. My kids love watching the planes take off from their beds. The pool is almost always empty, too. Len switched hotel chains, though, so no more airport hotel for us.:(

  3. I have been to the ER too many times to count to have one boy or the other stitched/glued/stapled up. At this point, we would save everyone a lot of trouble if they would just give me some glue and a stapler to keep at home. Glad Bill got home safely!

  4. Poor little guy! Middle Sister got herself a Harry Potter scar at about the same age. It’ll just be part of his charm. He certainly IS a cutie–and that expression on his face! How do you STAND it?

  5. oh gosh this just happened to John in front of the library before easter. only…. we called 911 b/c i could see bone and was afraid to move him before they gave the ok. and had nothing to wipe all.the.blood with so a stranger walking by gave me his daughters white b lanket. ohman, what a day.

    they gave him shots to the wound to numb it before sewing but did NOT do numbing gel. i’m thinking both together would work best? b/c the shots hurt worse i think than the stitches! lol at least when you’re little!

    but yea, we had to hold down a six year old (with the doctor helpfully inputting – “if you dont stop crying youcan’t go home” <–ummm, SHUTUP?!). an orderly and myself did it, with the baby strapped to my back and my foot pushing back the 3yr old, upset his brother was upset. brian was at drill. good times 😉

    now we have a harry potter scarred child as well. these kids, alway an adventure!!

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