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.
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| 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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