Raise Your Hand

Last night we had a significant run in with a can of sweetened condensed milk. I was making brownies and I opened the can of milk, then put it in the sink to rinse and recycle. Seconds after I put it in the sink Noelle, who was "washing the dishes," started crying. I knew before I turned around what a mistake I made by putting that can in the sink right by where she was working. The cut was wide and deep. We called Daddy and he told us to bring her into his office. He was surprised by how deep it was. We debated taking her to the urgent care or having him fix it right there. It wasn't a hard decision, here and now or waiting who knows how many hours. After Jeromy finished he said, I understand why doctors don't treat their own children. We were a little shaky after the experience. Noelle on the other hand had a complete turn around with the cut numbed and fixed up she was as talkative as ever. She started retelling me her most recent doctor experience a month ago when she got a shot in her arm and a "pretty bandaid." Then when we went to get in the car she asked me, "Why is the car parked in a cave?" (the parking garage.) The rest of the night she talked and talked and talked. I don't think she was very traumatized. Today Jeromy told Noelle she couldn't use her hand to play or eat or anything and David piped up, "Dad she can still raise her hand."