LIFE: Owie owie owie
Happy Fourth to all you Americans out there. I regret I am forced to work today although only for a half-day and I do get holiday pay, so it all works out. We'll take Peter over to a fireworks display tonight if we can stay up that long; then tomorrow night the cool African band Ladysmith Black Mambazo is playing a free concert at the park in town (we have a great free concert series over the summer here).
Yesterday, the three of us went to hang out at a local park, where Peter managed to get his first somewhat nasty injury of his young life. He's an explorer boy for sure, always running around, heedless of peril, up concrete steps and on tables and so forth. So while running around yesterday at the park with a pointy stick in his hand, Peter fell over. It's a common enough thing, until we saw the blood. Somehow (squeamish readers be warned), he caught his finger on part of the stick and -- ewwwgh -- ripped off most of one tiny little fingernail. Ye gods. Of course, mom and I were far more horrified and freaked out than he was. He wailed for a couple minutes, then settled into a kind of bemused shock at the injury. We carted him back to the car, washed him, put a couple bandages on it, and within a few minutes he was ready to run around the playground again. It was a nasty-looking injury, and I imagine I'd still be yelling about it if I did it, but apparently baby boys are partly made of rubber.
It wasn't the worst pain in the world and could have been nastier, and I'm sure with his disposition he'll inevitably get hurt worse and our first trip to the hospital will happen (my brother and I gave our parents many wonderful moments like that when we were kids). Being a parent is partially being in a perpetual state of fear, I read somewhere recently. Totally true, too.
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