Max: I'm getting Samson a kid-friendly Swiss army knife for his birthday.
Me: I don't know...sounds emergency room-y...
Max: Nah, this one is for kids. Says so on the package.
Me: ...errrrmmmmm...
six weeks later...
Max: Happy birthday, kiddo! Be careful with this knife. Always cut away from your self (and some other safety tips...I wasn't really paying attention)...blah blah blah...
Samson: AWESOME! You're the best, dad! Let's go cut things.
Max: Yes, let's. I love you, son.
Samson: I love you, dad.
that afternoon...
Samson: I'm going to open this box from uncle Paul with my new pocket knife!
Me: Allrighty, then. Be very careful. Cut away from yourself...
Samson: AAAAAAAAAAAH!
Me: AAAAAAAAAH!
Max: AAAAAAAAAAH!
a bit later...
Urgent care doctor #1: Sorry, our laceration specialist isn't here. Head to the urgent care across the street.
Samson, frowning: Stitches? (tears)
two hours later...
Urgent care doctor #2: It will only take me 3 or 4 pokes with this intimidating gigantic needle to numb your thumb. Then, I can sew it closed with this even more intimidating gigantic-er needle. Don't move. No. really, please stop squirming.
Well, you get the idea. This will help us earn our umpteenth Parent of the Year award. Clearly.
During the first of three numbing shots. That look is one of extreme distress that will be spoken of for many years to come. |
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