Boo-Boo Days

The following was originally posted on June 15, 2009 at http://www.parentclick.com/BlogPost.html?id=1180:

It was a rough weekend for boo boos, let me tell you.

We got it started off right on Friday evening. We planned a trip to the grocery store, which was delayed when Riley, picking up his toy tank, slipped and fell on it, scraping his inner thigh with two parallel scrapes, each about six inches long, that slowly started to seep blood. A quick trip to the bathroom, peroxide, band-aids, check.

As we were getting home, Riley and Jenna were headed to the front door as Crystal and I unloaded Mason and our first load of bags. My back was turned, and I saw that immediate, panic-stricken look on Crystal's face that shrieks something's wrong.

I whirled around to see Jenna going down, her body hitting the cement. Her knees hit, then her body, and she lurched forward, like a rocking horse with a rock stuck under it.

I sat Mason's seat down and ran to her, and she was crying. Initial diagnosis: nothing major. Two moderately skinned knees. Crystal came running up and I unlocked the door and took Jen inside to get her cleaned up while I unloaded the car.

The final diagnosis added a scraped chin and bitten tongue to her previous wounds.

Saturday was only worse. We took a trip to the Perry Pool, stopping before to pick up pool toys (that we weren't allowed to use) and flip-flops for the whole family (excluding Mason, which is fine, considering, you know, he can't walk).

The two older kids were squealing with delight the entire day, prancing around like show horses, giggling like giddy baboons.

We stopped off at the snack bar for a break. It was all a bit too much for Riley, who gave in to his sugar-infused adrenaline rush and started trotting around the snack area. Jenna, who loves her big brother, followed, in her pretty new pink flops, and their dad yelling at them to slow down before...

Again, she hit the deck, her little knees trading paint with the pavement, scraping her lower leg and one of her feet for good measure. I took her back to the locker room and showered her sorry little joints before returning.

It wasn't 20 minutes later before she fell again. Minutes later again, before Crystal finally, angrily tore the flip flops off of her feet and flung them away, snuggling her at the same time as she sobbed.

We stopped off before home and picked up some antiseptic spray and band-aids before heading home, Jenna all the while saying "Knees...huwt," bringing a sense of empathy that only my daughter can bring out in me.

One thing about Jenna: unlike most kids, band-aids don't make wounds feel better. We pumped the Neosporin on her boo-boos, and I went to apply the knee-sized bandage that still didn't quite cover all the ouchies on her right knee. As I applied it she protested, then let loose with a bloody-murder scream right there in the parking lot. By then it was too late. This was one of those "easy-to-remove" bandages.

So Jenna dealt with it, and since Saturday her knees have been her favorite topic of conversation. When she wakes, when she's going to bed, when she's walking around: "Daddy...knees...huwt." If it was Riley complaining to me like that, I have to admit I'd tell him to suck it up. I'd have sympathy for him, but Jenna's cries have that way of turning my insides to jelly.

Riley, both hoping to make her feel better and to make sure no one forgot about him, showed her his battle scars. They were two little Quints and Hoopers onboard the Orca.

So my two oldest are now the walking wounded.