On the third day of Christmas....blahblahblah...one bloody headwound.....

OH MY SWEET JESUS hates me give me a break.

Bubbles got this from Santa (maybe Satan Santa hates me).

And that, combined with a really stupid catapult-the-baby-brother-from-the-pillar 'idea' of his sister's, resulted in this:

(What you don't see here is the picture of my absolutely calm grim and blood-covered face)

And one visit to the nearest urgent care facility. Where the doctor took one look at my surly child and suggested that we would have 'better luck' if we cleaned out his wound.

This is not blood. Just the betadine solution.

'Better luck' apparently meant that one parent would hold him down while the other parent inappropriately took pictures tortured him with small gauze squares.

(I should have been a nurse. Except that I almost threw up three times while cleaning it.)

Then the doctor came back in and snipped a few bloody hairs out of his way and glued the wound shut. (Seriously? For $150 I get to clean it out myself and some glue??)

He was pissed.

She is so grounded.

(As in, her favorite gifts have been taken away and she is grounded from everything.)
(Yes, everything, and please pity me, because guess who suffers the whining?)






The end.