We had just gotten home from Kroger. Payton and I were putting away groceries when I heard the familiar "thud" of something hitting my coffee table. Usually this sound is followed by Max's call of "I'm ok!" This time, I didn't hear the usual response.
I'm still not sure exactly how the accident happened, but I definitely knew Max was hurt. I threw what I was working on in the fridge and started toward the living room. As I make my first few steps, Maxwell was already coming my way. He was holding a very bloody hand to his very bloody face.
I placed my hand on top of his, held pressure there and told Payton to get me a towel. Normally Payton is a good listener but this poor little guy was so nervous and scared for his baby brother that he couldn't do much. After a reminder, he found the towel and brought it to me. We finally got to calling Matt and work and told him we were on our way in.
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I thought Maxwell would FREAK, but he did really well actually. Matt and I had nothing to do with the procedure. We'd rather he associate strangers with that kind of thing. The only time he cried is when they gave him back to me. But he was so very proud of himself for doing a "great job".
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So, that makes two trips to the same ER in the last 17 days. If you're willing to provide a good character/parenting reference for Matt and I when Child Protective Services calls on Monday, please let me know. ;)
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