I suppose, more accurately, there's been blood tonight.
Hubby took Small Fry with him when he went to pick up Large Fry from ribbon dance tonight.
When they got home, Small Fry came up to me in tears. "Mommy, look!"
She showed me her scraped-up elbow.
Hubby and Large Fry trailed into the den after her. She stood there sniffling and shoving her elbow in my face.
I've been recovering from last night's killer migraine, and it's been raining and storming off and on for the last two days. I still don't feel quite up to snuff, so I wasn't sure why Small was just standing near me and Hubby wasn't going to patch up her boo-boo. I was really only downstairs because I had promised the twins I would watch Disney's Tarzan with them (which Medium and I had watched when she was home sick on Wednesday, and had been begging to watch again).
Hubby collapsed on the couch.
"What happened?" I asked him.
"She fell on her as...phalt," he said.
I gave him long-suffering look.
"The parking lot at the church was wet from the rain, and she was spinning around. I think she slipped on one of the paint stripes. She wanted you to fix it."
I stood up to take Small into the kitchen.
"I guess Mommy's better at fixing boo-boos."
"Can you come lift her onto the island?" I asked Hubby.
By the time I got to the kitchen, Small had already clambered up on the island. I went looking for the hydrogen peroxide, which I knew was in the kitchen somewhere from our last bike escapade. I found it on the counter (rather than in the pantry, where I thought it was).
I remember hating the "dancing bubbles," as my mom called them. They stung. And hurt. No matter how much she told me it didn't hurt that bad, I cried every time Mom used them when I was Small's age. I poured some peroxide into one of our many medicine cups and used one of our medicine syringes to dribble the peroxide over her scrape.
I wasn't surprised when Small started screaming and crying. I called for Hubby to come hold Small's other hand, because she had started digging her fingers into her upper arm, and I was afraid she'd scratch herself up more.
"I got out most of the rocks," Hubby told me as he tried to soothe Small Fry. "It's not so bad," he said to her. "Here, put your hand under your bottom. It doesn't hurt that much. Calm down."
"I remember it hurting like that when I was her age." I dribbled more peroxide, watching it continue to foam over her scrapes.
Hubby turned to the cupboard where we kept first aid stuff and pulled out a Disney princess bandaid.
And that's when Large burst into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. "Mooooooommy!" I couldn't even get out a response before she wailed, "My tooth came out!"
Well, sure enough, there was blood all over her teeth and lips. Hubby dropped the bandaid on the counter as I passed him a clean napkin for Large Fry.
"It's in here!" Large held out a small bite of pizza.
I was so glad she handed that to Hubby while I squirted the remaining peroxide back in the bottle and got a clean napkin to blot Small's boo-boo dry. Tears still streamed down her face. Large had looked terrified when she came into the kitchen, but now she looked on the verge of giggling. "I'm so happy!" she wailed.
"Which tooth did she lose?" I asked him, hoping it was one of the two baby teeth in her lower jaw that are still in there, despite the permanent teeth that have completely erupted behind them (the dentist said to "just work on them").
"I don't know yet." Hubby folded up the napkin and had Large bite down, since she was still bleeding.
Large stood there, chomping down on the napkin, while Hubby turned back to me and handed me the bandaid. "Ooooo, it's all the princesses!" Hubby told Small.
As it turned out, the tooth Large lost was one of the upper ones. Seems the Tooth Fairy will be visiting tonight. Which means I'd better find Hubby's change stash, since I'm all out of quarters, and he's not.
And, if you count Medium's scab that she scratched open earlier this afternoon, all three of the kids have shed blood today.
I figured it would be my best friend's boys who would have that kind of bleeding down to an art form, not my three girls. :)