Henry has begun channeling his inner John McEnroe. And this is not a post about tennis.
A couple of weeks ago, two hours before bedtime, he had a spill while razor scooting around the driveway. He scraped up his forehead right above his right eye, and it was pretty bad. At least it looked bad. We took him into the house and put a cold compress on his head... and proceeded to incentivize him taking head dives into concrete by letting him watch as much TV as he wanted. And we didn't want him to see the injury for fear of the inevitable freakout, so we avoided every mirror in the house.
At bedtime, we took him upstairs to put on his pajamas and brush his teeth. He had stopped crying and was basically over it, so we'd forgotten about the "no mirrors" rule. Well, when he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, he turned on the light, looked in the mirror, and saw the big red bloody scrape on his head and started sobbing. Really sad. But that turned into a whimper and then silence. After a couple seconds of examination, he frustratingly said: "Ahhhhhhh, you HAVE GOT to be kidding me!"A couple of weeks ago, two hours before bedtime, he had a spill while razor scooting around the driveway. He scraped up his forehead right above his right eye, and it was pretty bad. At least it looked bad. We took him into the house and put a cold compress on his head... and proceeded to incentivize him taking head dives into concrete by letting him watch as much TV as he wanted. And we didn't want him to see the injury for fear of the inevitable freakout, so we avoided every mirror in the house.
Game, set, match, Henry!
1 comment:
OUch!! Feel better soon, Henry!
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