Son #1 got Cars 2 band aids at the local Walgreens yesterday. He was so excited about the cute band aids and proudly showed me his minuscule scratch protected by his prize. I oohed and ahhed an appropriate amount of time and then made my way to the kitchen to start cooking our dinner.
Son #1 played happily in the living room until he bumped his finger on the coffee table. He came to me cradling his finger and said. "Mama, I need a band aid. Look! I cut myself."
I looked down and saw nothing but replied. "Oh, that is terrible. Hmmm. Let me get you a band aid but first we'll have to cut it off."
Son #1 looked at me incredulously. "Noooo." He laughed nervously. "You can't cut it off."
"But we will need to do surgery on it before the band aid goes on." I said as I prepared the butter knife for the procedure.
Son #1 assessed his finger and the situation. "I think I'm better now. I don't need a band aid anymore."
"I'm glad to see that your finger is healed." I smiled mischievously to myself.
It is amazing how the threat of surgery with a butter knife miraculously heals all minor wounds.
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Surgery
One rainy and dreary afternoon, Son #1 pulled out his tool kit and marched decisively into the office.
He announced. "Mama, I'm going to fix you."
"Oh really." I replied.
Son #1 produced his screwdriver and ordered me to hold out my hand. I meekly complied. After a few twists and turns, he informed me that the procedure was complete.
I was delighted. "Thank you Son #1!" I exclaimed.
"Call me Doctor Son #1." was his terse reply.
"OK Doctor." I responded breezily. "I guess I'm all fixed up."
"No. Not yet." The miniature doctor disappeared into his room and rustled about in his toolbox. A few moments later, he reappeared with his hammer.
Thump!
Whack!
Thump! Thump!
Apparently, my arm was lumpy and needed to be evened out. The miniture doctor examined his work and then sighed. He walked out of the office to his room in search of another tool.
I called out. "Are you finished?"
"Hang on, Mama." He replied. "I'm almost done. I just have one more thing to do."
He rounded the corner with a SAW in his hands.
Hmm. I think I'll get a second opinion.
He announced. "Mama, I'm going to fix you."
"Oh really." I replied.
Son #1 produced his screwdriver and ordered me to hold out my hand. I meekly complied. After a few twists and turns, he informed me that the procedure was complete.
I was delighted. "Thank you Son #1!" I exclaimed.
"Call me Doctor Son #1." was his terse reply.
"OK Doctor." I responded breezily. "I guess I'm all fixed up."
"No. Not yet." The miniature doctor disappeared into his room and rustled about in his toolbox. A few moments later, he reappeared with his hammer.
Thump!
Whack!
Thump! Thump!
Apparently, my arm was lumpy and needed to be evened out. The miniture doctor examined his work and then sighed. He walked out of the office to his room in search of another tool.
I called out. "Are you finished?"
"Hang on, Mama." He replied. "I'm almost done. I just have one more thing to do."
He rounded the corner with a SAW in his hands.
Hmm. I think I'll get a second opinion.
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