What to blog about, what to blog about? Nothing ever happens around here anymore. *tapping fingers on keyboard* What to blog, what to…
Oh, RIGHT. There’s that ONE thing that happened last week. But I don’t think you want to hear about it. It’s gory and gross, and I definitely don’t want to blog about it. So guess I’ll just go straight to…
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Ice cream sundaes
Psst. I’m still here. I’m going to have to write this really fast and all at once or else I’m going to chicken out and not do it at all. I’ll start with a picture, but I strongly advice you to NOT READ ANY FURTHER AND ESPECIALLY DON’T LOOK AT THE PICTURE.
Just be thankful these aren’t the pictures we sent to the dentist, where the blood kept dripping on the phone.
Rocco went out for a bike ride and 10 minutes later the front door flew open and he said, “Mom, I fell off my bike and got hurt,” and I yelled to the lady I was talking to on the phone, I HAVE TO GO MY KID IS ALL BLOODY because a Mom knows, just knows when a hurt is for real and big. There was blood. A lot of it. I held a wet washcloth to Rocco’s mouth and asked, “Did you bite your tongue?” No. “Did you bite your lip?” No. I asked him with great trepidation to open his mouth. The image of what I saw there keeps waking me up at night. I called the dentist right away but almost passed out on the phone and spent the next 30 minutes lying on the bathroom floor, trying not to throw up and feeling like a terrible Mom. Kevin cleaned the rocks and blood off of Rocco, who was a little shaky but didn’t cry or panic, and by the time we got to the dentist he was back to talking a mile a minute. I had to keep interrupting him so the dentist could explain things. (“He’s so lucky!” she kept saying. “No root damage!”) On the way back I said Rocco could get a milkshake and he ordered a baconater to go with it. He ate every bite. (I guess the half a tooth he ate earlier wasn’t all that filling.) I’m so grossed out by this whole post I have to end it abruptly. I’m feeling faint again.