Well, he's gone and done it. X had his first bloody injury, and for all I thought it was a doozy, I guess we were lucky.
He was cruising around the kitchen, walking holding on to the cabinets for balance. When he came to "his" drawer, he pulled it out. Because he was starting to get tired, he lost his balance abruptly and sat straight down. I don't know if he banged his chin or his mouth, but he immediately started crying. I picked him up and comforted him, and he stopped crying pretty quickly, but then I noticed the blood.
He had given himself a bloody lip, poor thing. My husband got a baggie of ice, and X sucked on it -- he actually seemed to enjoy it. However, the bleeding took a little while to stop.
X was totally unfazed by the fact that he was bleeding from the mouth. He wanted me to hold his hands so he could practice toddling around some more. I, on the other hand, was too traumatized to be helpful at that point. So, my husband picked him up while I mixed a bottle of formula. It was almost time to start the bedtime routine, which is usually my time with X, but my husband looked after him, and I tried to get myself together. Two days later, and I'm able to sit down and write about it.
The astonishing thing is how QUICKLY it all happened. But, equally fast was X's recovery. The bleeding was nothing. It was the shock of the impact and the initial pain that got him going. He was able to shake it all off much more quickly than I did.
I know it's the first in what will become a long and illustrious history of bumps, bruises, scrapes and cuts. Maybe I'll get tougher, as the injuries happen. It was hard, though, this first time.
