I have been a mother of boys for 8 years now. The fact that I had not previously had to deal with a single stitch is rather unbelievable (that's if you don't count the stitches Max probably should have had but now has a large scalp scar instead).
So, of course, we were out of town when Spence went head-long into the coffee table. I asked the babysitter to text me a picture of his forehead... that sucker wasn't even borderline. There was NO question that he needed stitches (7 of them, in the end). Omar's poor mother inherited the duty of taking this bleeding child to the hospital and holding his hand. Second ER visit for the little chap in the past 2 months.
And the grim reality of my momma-guilt for not being there? I have absolutely on doubt that Spencer did better WITHOUT me. He was, apparently, a complete champ. No freaking, screaming, crying or melting down.
Huh?
That is one way to mess with my head.
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