I was playing soccer in our front yard with the boys and the ball went under a rose bush. McKay went to grab it and got a thorn in his finger.
And thus began 45 freaking minutes of screaming and yelling and carrying on. This wasn't even one of those splinters that's stuck way deep in your skin. There was plenty of it sticking out so that if he would just have held his finger still I could have grabbed it with the tweezers and it would have been out in 10 seconds. But he was having none of that.
His first reaction to seeing the tweezers was to high tail it out the front door and announce that he was running away from home! I was able to coax him home eventually and almost immediately began to rethink that idea. I have never in my entire life seen a child so out of control. He was kicking and screaming and flailing about and turning all sorts of shades of red and purple. It got to a point where I wouldn't have been shocked if his head spun right around.
"STOPITSTOPITSTOPITYOURHURTINGMEAHHHHHHITBURNSSTOOOPPP!!!" And I kid you not I was not even touching him yet! I started out nice and calm, trying to talk to him and even let him try to get it himself. But after a half hour I was getting so frustrated and starting to lose my temper because he was being so unreasonable. I was going to let him keep the darn thing in his finger, except that he had a splinter in his foot once that I didn't know about and it got infected. So I figured we should remove it. Besides, give me a break kid...it's a thorn. Stop freaking out and lets get this over with.
I'm sure the neighbors think someone was being mistreated. I almost wish someone would have come knocking...I would have welcomed the help!
Anyway, we did get the silly little thing out and he calmed down but I'm so drained! I'm not a drinker, but tonight almost changed that. Man oh man. I may keep him inside for the rest of his life just to prevent him from ever getting another splinter.
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2 comments:
My kids do the same freaking thing. You'd think I was removing their splinters with an axe!
Then there's the famous... "mom, wait! Just let me tell you something first!... don't do it yet, I really need to tell you something first...."
Wimps, I tell ya.
I was once walking one of my students (M) to the bus; she was, for unrelated reasons, very agitated.
So, like the (ha ha) knowledgeable person I am, and knowing M hates to be touched, I grabbed our bathroom pass, which is on one of those neck lanyard thingies, thinking that I could hold one end and she could hold the other.
Thus, I'd be "attached" to her (thus reducing flight risk) without actually being attached to her.
We're walking right past the principal's office, when she shrieks (and I mean shrieks) "LET GO OF ME LET GO OF ME LET GO OF ME LET GO OF ME."
To this day, I'm thankful this happened after we got our new principal, who likes us, as opposed to our old principal, who thought we had cooties.
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