Friday, September 23, 2005

Proud Parenting Moment I

On Wednesday evening as we pulled in front of the house, I noticed a small box on the porch. "A box!" Satchel squealed as he made a beeline for the door. "What is it? Is it for me?" he asked excitedly.

I glanced at the label and realized it was my much anticipated coloring books. "I think that's something for Daddy's motorcycle," I lied.

"Can I open it?" he asked.

"No, honey, it's for Daddy, we have to wait for him to come home on Friday," I lied again, hoping I could get him to unleash it so I could hide it.

He, being three, completely ignored me and plopped down in the middle of the kicthen floor and started desperately trying to rip it open. I decided to not care if he succeeded. I had been flying solo for three days and I was tired.

My mom and my nine-year-old nephew had come for dinner and I needed to unload the dishwasher, make a salad, steam some broccoli, keep Jiro calm, and order a pizza. I saw Satchel open the silverware drawer and take out a butterknife, but the potential danger failed to register.

My mom, still sharp after all these years, was looking on unsure of whether to step in or not. She started to say, "Are you sure he should be playing with a knife," when a horrifying scream ripped through the room.

I heard metal hit Mexican tile as I turned around to find Satchel clutching his eye with both hands, shaking his legs up and down, and thrashing around violently on the floor.

Oh my god.

I rushed over and scooped him up and tried to assess the damage. Luckily there was no blood, which I prayed was a good sign. "Let me see, baby," I choked. Please let his eyeball be okay.


"Let's get Spider-man," I said as I opened the freezer and quickly located the much worn Spider-man ice pack. He moved his hands for a split second and I saw the tiniest of cuts on his cheekbone.

It was probably the first time that I have actually been thankful for three-year-old extreme drama. Note to self: If there is ever an incident with absolutely no sound, immediately call 911.

1 comment:

Stephanie said...

See, my mom would never quietly watch something like that. She openly questions everything I do. But not in a hostile way- it's more like she has no filter!

Anyway, if a butter knife is the worst thing you let happen this week, I think you're doing great.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...