So, over the last few weeks, in my old age, I have found it very hard to stay up past like 8:30 on a good night. Most nights, I am in bed by like 8 because the exhaustion is just too much for me. And that’s what I was planning on doing Sunday night…going to bed early, as usual.  So I’m just starting the bedtime routine when I hear a shattering and “Honey, I need to go to the hospital.” I go downstairs to the kitchen and lo and behold, my husband is clutching a paper towel to his thumb and the paper towel is slowly, no quickly, turning different shades of pink and red. And my two year old is bouncing around the kitchen going “Ouchie mommy. Daddy big ouchie.” Yes, somehow, my husband broke a dish while loading up the dishwasher and sliced upon his thumb badly enough that we drove to the local hospital, where they stitched him up.

They took care of him pretty quickly, probably because he was bleeding.  Looking back on it, it was actually kind of funny – although it wasn’t so much at the time. Husband’s hands were shaking and I thought that he was going to faint when they started sewing up his thumb.  But he handled it fairly well and Nate was a trooper too. He did as he was told for the most part (which is no small feat, for those of you that know two year olds) and he played with his cars (we had brought along a few of the Hot Rods cars for him). I also was able to occasionally distract him by walking him around the nurses’ station saying hello to the nurses.  All in all, it didn’t take as long as i thought and it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Husband has to have the stitches in for ten days, which is perfect timing – he’ll get them out right before we go on vacation.


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