Poor, Poor Baby

After 2 and a half years, Sid finally ambled into the corner of the dining room table causing everyone in the room to go into a frenzy. There were seven of us sitting around watching Diary of a Mad Black Women (good movie, by the way) and Sid was running around being himself. I went into the kitchen for something when all of a sudden I heard a commotion and then a weak, pained cry and then much louder screams of pain and surprise. And went over to my baby who was in the arms of his father, crying and rubbing around his left eye. I didn't want to get frantic - tat's the best way to increase the hysteria of the child. So as everyone came around to see how badly he was hurt I went to find something to clean him up and to wrap ice cubes in. In the soothing, strong arms of daddy, he calmed down enough to let us see the damage. There was a sideways Y-shaped indentation immediately below his left eyebrow. So close, yet thankfully far enough away from his eye. After the neosporin and bandaid all he wanted was to look in the mirror to see what we had done to him. Oh, my God, I love him. Within half an hour he was back to himself. Never unconscious, never lost his balance or threw up, kept his ability 'reason', barely any swelling, he seemed alright. I went to work today and his father took him to school. I kept calling to check up on him. After work I took him to the doctor's more for my own peace of mind than anything else. I could never forgive myself if something, anything preventable went wrong with his healing just because I couldn't bother to pay the $10 for him to see a doctor. So, we saw the doctor. And the doctor saw him. We were in and out of there with a clean bill of health in less than an hour. God is good.