Another One Bites the Dust

Since my last post about Wyatt's owie, he has finally spoken a whole sentence. He talks pretty well, mostly fragments or mumbling parts of the sentence he can't say. This new sentence is a little significant though. He says, "No monkeys jumpin on the bed." And he says it pretty well. On the way to the hospital, since he wasn't crying or anything, we sang that song to him. Now when he climbs on our bed, we have to remind him "no more monkeys jumping on the bed", and that that was how he got his owie. Ross took out his stitches the Tuesday after, just five days before we had another incident.

Sunday evening we went to Charity's house in Orem. Her daughter is turning six and we had a family dinner and party. I had ridden up with parents and we were getting ready to go. Even though Wyatt was still at the table munching on cake, I was putting Misty's pajamas on so we could go. There wasn't anyone else at the table with him, but all of the sudden we heard a THUD followed by crying. I knew it was Wyatt, but I continued to dress Misty knowing that one of my sisters would love him better. Erika ran over and picked him up and brought him over by me. He wanted me, so we swapped places. He had his head in my shoulder as I walked out of the room when someone shouted, "His head is bleeding in the back!" My first thoughts were, "Oh Great! Really!?! More stitches?" I took him into the kitchen and Charity started to wipe off the wound and got a better look at it. It was split open pretty good. Charity's husband, Brandon, was looking around to see where he'd hit since nobody actually saw it happen. We concluded that the impact of the hard wood floor split his head.

Ross wasn't there this time. He had to work, so my dad and I took him to an Instacare just a few blocks away. When the Doc finally took a look at it, he said he'd just put a few staples in it. STAPLES!?! I'd heard of it like after surgeries and stuff, but in my little boy's head? He assured me that it was quicker than shaving around the wound, giving a local anesthetic, and finally stitching. The pain would be less than the local itself, so I consented. They put in three staples and he barely cried. What a tough little man. They put an ointment and bandage on it, and we were good to go. When we got back to Charity's he was ready to play, with his cool blue car bandage. Sorry, no gruesome pics of the wound before the staples. They're on my phone, and I'm not sure how to post them. I'll try, but here are these for now.


The next day we went to a Chinese restaurant for Bonnie's birthday. Wyatt's fortune cookie said, "Your judgment cannot be trusted at this time. Turn to friends." I guess I need to be a little more aware of him if I don't want to be turned into Child Protective Services.