If all of this had happened on April 1, it would have been much more appropriate. As it is, it all happened on April 2.
Mason and Brielle had their first appointment with the pediatric dentist early in the morning. There were only a couple of scared tears and lots of happy smiles. It was a big difference from the last time I took Mason to a regular dentist and I think a big part of that was the way Brielle just jumped right on the table, happy as could be, as soon as they were taken back. They got their teeth cleaned, x-rayed and examined, and then they got water bottles! Floss! New toothbrushes! Success.
Then we went shopping and wouldn't you know it, I forgot the stupid pin number to my Target debit card and if you think I am going to spend $15 extra dollars on the clothes and shoes I just spent an hour picking out, you are wrong. Failure
After that we went to Zuppa's, where Brielle ordered a bowl of mushroom soup and carefully downed it, Mason loved the bread, and Ava had fruit and shared my sandwich. All of my kids ate. Success.
Then we came home. After about twenty minutes we were settled in, watching an afternoon show while Ava took a nap. Brielle went to let Casper back in the house and suddenly she was crying hysterically. I ran and scooped her up and was cradling her on the couch when I decided to give that poor little slammed finger a kiss better. But it was covered in blood. Failure.
Part of me wanted to just slap a Band-Aid on that baby and call it a day, but another, wiser part of me could tell it was probably pretty bad. There was lots of blood. I wasn't sure the tip of her thumb was still actually attached. So I ran next door to get my sweet neighbor, Melba Wheeler, to come sit with Mason and Ava while I took Bri to the clinic, but she wasn't home. I came back and called another neighbor, Janet Bingham, who was smart and suggested that she bring her husband (and my kids Physician's Assistant) along to take a look at it. He unwrapped the gauze, took one look, and said I should get to the ER. But doesn't the pediatrician do stitches? Not this kind, apparently.
We have to go to the ER at McKay Dee, because, insurance. So I loaded her in the car with her purple blankie and called Tim to meet us there. (As I was loading her in the car she told me that dad would have to go home first to change out of his work clothes, and then he could meet us there. She has been so concerned with him promptly changing his clothes after work lately.) She fell asleep in the car before we were even on the freeway. It was so sweet and pathetic. This whole time there had been very few tears - only when her injury was being handled directly. I was seriously amazed considering she usually bursts into tears the second someone looks at her wrong.
She was so brave the whole time we were waiting and didn't cry until the doctor took off her bandage again to look at it. Apparently the nail was completely gone and the front of her thumb had a fairly deep laceration. She got x-rays without much fuss and they showed that she didn't damage the bone. They would
just have to sew up the cut and then put a small stint under her cuticle to keep if from healing shut.
There were five people there to hold her down, including Tim and me, but it wasn't really needed. I kneeled by her bed and held her hand and her face toward me so that she wouldn't watch. She cried through the first couple of numbing shots but barely flinched. She held her arm perfectly still through the whole procedure. It took quite a while, so I tried to just talk to her to keep her distracted.
"What color were the balloons at your party?"
"Pink"
"What color was the fish at the dentist?"
"Blue"
Who would win between a tiger and daddy?"
"Hulk!"
About halfway through she was smiling and cracking jokes and just way too pleasant for a kid getting a thumb stitched shut. The doctor and nurses said that they have never seen anything like it - that not even the adults hold so still. I was so proud of my brave little Bri. She really was incredible.
She left with quite the loot, too. Two suckers, a few books, a puzzle, stickers... We left the hospital with a happy little girl. She chatted to me the whole way home about how she would take off her brace and bandage next year and how she really just wanted to go home and watch Paw Patrol. The rest of the night she was a silly, giggling sweetheart. So, success.