I think my children are trying to kill themselves or see who can be the first to give me a heart attack.
They were in the den, on the couch. I heard the thud. I heard the cry. It settled to a quiet sob fairly quickly then a yell at a sibling. I was slow(er than usual) to get to him as he has been grumpy and fussy and a pain in the boo-tay all day. He was “letting a sibling have it” with some choice four year old words. Totally wish I had it recorded.
He walked to me crying, we met, and THERE IT WAS!
Bright as tomato juice dripping down his sweet sad face, mixed in with the tears, was the blood.
My heart sank.
My stomach rose.
The guilt consumed.
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