Thank Heaven for Little Girls

Sunday night I made my 3rd trip to the ER in the last 10 months. One time for each boy. Alex poked his eye with a pencil early last December -- thankfully his eyelid took the brunt of the damage and he only had minor scratches on his cornea. Though the laceration should have been stitched, the ER doc and the plastics specialist decided that trying to stitch the eyelid of a 4 1/2 year old would likely cause more damage than he already had. We left the ER with only a butterfly bandage and a little bit of tape to hold the eyelid together and an appointment with an opthalmologist.

Pete made his first trip a few months later, barely past his 3rd birthday. We have a raised brick hearth on our fireplace, and as one might imagine we have told those boys countless times "Someone is going to crack their head open if you boys wrestle near the fireplace!" Those words proved to be true. I was preparing dinner and was unaware of the wresting match going on in the family room. I heard the scream and ran to see what the trouble was. The shirtless Pete had, sure enough, hit his head on the brick hearth and split it open. The split wasn't very big and he only needed 1 staple. They didn't even numb him for it because then he would have had two pokes instead of just one. He said only, "Ouch, that hurt."

Which brings us to Ben. Ben turned 18 months on the 12th of this month, an important milestone for any LDS child and his parents, as this is the age the child is allowed to enter the nursery for the last 2 hours of our (3 hour) Sunday meetings. As our fourth child and third boy, Ben has two speeds: run and sleep. On Sunday night, Ben, running of course, tripped and smacked his forehead into the same brick hearth. This one is going to leave a visible scar. (I keep hearing that scars are ok for boys!?) His injury is about an inch below his hairline right in the middle of his forehead. The ER doc thought she could glue it until she cleaned the wound up a little bit and saw that it was deeper and more jagged than she had first thought. They numbed him up with some numbing gel and then velcroed him flat on his back, arms at his sides, onto a board intended to keep him from moving while the doctor sewed up his head. He needed two stitches.

Then there is Abbigail. She is approaching 7 1/2 and has thus far managed to avoid the emergency room. I am grateful for her for many reasons, and her cautious nature is just one of them. Abby is a doting big sister, and a wonderful helper for Grant and me. She is funny and smart, beautiful both inside and out. Her bright eyes and lovely smile cause me everyday (especially days I am taking a brother to the emergency room) to "thank heaven for little girls."