Poor Pooh Bear....

Last Saturday Patrick had a soccer game. Normally this isn't a big deal, but last Saturday Eric also left to go hunting in our van....taking with him Patrick's soccer shoes, socks & shin guards. I tried not to make a fuss over it so I decided to run by the sports store before the game. In our household it is never a bad thing to have duplicates of shoes.

At this point in the morning it was only myself, Quintin, and Tank. Since the two other boys had spent the night at my parents house I figured that it would be much easier to run through the store with only one child. Unfortunately, when we got out of the car I didn't realize that Quintin's right thumb had been shut in the door. I had grabbed his hand to walk across the parking lot only to rip his thumb out of the door. It was an image that I wish I could forget.

Sometimes I think to myself, how would I react if I were put in a certain situation? Would I remain calm or completely freak out? Would I do the right thing? Well, it turns out that I don't react well to situations that involve injuries with blood spewing out of them.

There was blood and a lot of it; Quin was screaming, I was screaming, Quin was crying, I was crying....I jumped back in the car with Quin in my lap drove to the nearest hospital. Before driving off, I called my mom to let her know what had happened, but the only words she got out of my hysterical phone call were: Blood, Quin and Car. Not a very good combination.

Next thing I know the phone rings and it was my mom wondering "WHAT!?!?" I tried to explain to her what had happened only to be put on speaker phone so then my dad could ask for me to re-explain myself. If it isn't hard enough to compete with a screaming child. Really people? Understandably, I'm sure I sounded like a crazed hyena or something.

We all made it to the hospital, Mom, Pop, followed by Brandy & RJ. Thank God for Moms!! The worst thing for a parent is seeing your baby hurt. On top of that having to hold him down for painful shots and then again for the stitches. The worst part was the doctor and nurse having to administer the numbing agent all over the base of his thumb and around his nail. Kids don't understand that more pain will result in them feeling better. Why in the world would that make sense?

Quintin did get a cute red teddy bear from the hospital. He named it "thhhpp!" (raspberry sound) He was not impressed to say the least. Brandy and RJ helped keep us all in good spirits during the whole ordeal. Pop took our dog back to his house because as he says "He doesn't do well at hospitals."

Two hours and 9 stitches later we were able to leave. We then went to Steak-N-Shake for milkshakes. If my mom had her way she would have taken Quintin to ToysRUs for "sorry your mom banged you up" shopping spree. I opted for no shopping spree for fear of Patrick & Wyatt would be lining up at the car door saying "Smash my hand!! Smash my hand!! I want a new toy too!"

If my son turns out to be left handed -- it's all my fault.