My girls are off with Daddy at a late night play rehearsal (opening night is Friday!) and Alex is fast asleep. Jack was up late playing on the computer a few minutes ago when I suddenly heard a blood curling scream.
I went racing downstairs as he came flying upstairs, tears streaming down his face. He held his finger out and wailed, "I bit my finger!".
I hugged him and hurried him to the sink, where I ran cold water over it as I got the rest of the story.
Yep, he bit it. He wasn’t paying attention and was apparently chewing on his nail when he accidentally missed, and quite forcefully chomped down hard on his own poor finger.
I hugged him close, called him my poor boy, ran more cold water and tried to apply a little pressure. That made him scream more and he finally decided he was okay enough to go back to his Nick Jr. game.
As he settled back down and choked back his tears, he proclaimed, "The only way this day could get worse is if I bit my OTHER finger!".
Well yes. True, that would be worse!
I’m still trying to decide if that’s his version of looking on the bright side or if I should prepare for another shriek.