I now know not to post a rant (“Please tell me why…”) on a potentially controversial topic and then go make dinner… because Things Will Happen.
Right after I shoved the Jerk Chicken into the oven yesterday afternoon, Gaze stalked into the house, fairly dripping blood. He’d fallen off his bike and cut his hand, and it was bleeding freely. I took him into the bathroom to wash it – poor baby, his lips were pale but he was pretty calm – and saw that it was deep enough to need stitches.
So I left Bookworm in charge of dinner and Taz and took Gaze to the hospital, where we proceeded to spend the next three hours getting X-rays and having his hand stitched, in between periods of staring at the wall posters of burn victims and telling each other terrible jokes. (“What’s purple and conquered the world? Alexander the Grape.”)
Five stitches this kid got in his hand, and did he cry? No. This is in stark contrast to Taz, who fell off his own bike ten days ago, scraping his knee and elbow, and who wailed nonstop for forty minutes. But there you have it: Taz is Drama King, and Gaze is the King of Calm. The CEO and I have been saying to each other for several years now, “If we wind up in the emergency room with any of these kids, it’ll be Taz.” That’s twice now that we’ve been wrong – last fall, we had an appendicitis scare with Gaze, and yesterday the stitches. Go figure.
And then this morning I had to get a prescription for Keflex filled, and take it to the nurse at the middle school, where I spent another half an hour filling out paperwork sufficient that she would be legally able to give Gaze one antibiotic pill a day for the next five school days. Half an hour! I know, she’s Just Doing Her Job… it’s annoying to be so hemmed in by rules, though. I had to leave her the original prescription container with five pills in it and come home with the other 23 pills in a (sterile) plastic bag.
SO. I’ll get back to everyone who commented on the Fashion Blog issue soon, but for now I’m going to work.