Return to the playground

Something about the presence of blood makes even a minor injury seem like the most horrific thing imaginable,  and when it is your son bleeding profusely, that is another level of awful.

It happened at the playground,  on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The husband and I were happily watching our son explore, when — splat — he fell face first in to a bench, cutting the top of his eyelid in the process. Being the resilient toddler that he is, my son didn’t cry for very long, but he was definitely shaken up. He was so exhausted from the ordeal that he slept through the night,  something he had rarely done up to that point.

This morning, I took my son back to the playground for the first time in more than a week. I was worried he might be scared to go back. Ok, I was worried I would be scared to go back. All was well, however,  when my son’s face lit up at the sight of the playground.

At first I was that nervous mom, hovering over my child at every turn, but once I got my confidence back, I was able to let him go farther away from me, doing my best to keep an eye on him.

Of course, I can’t have my eyes on my kid all the time, and chances are he will get hurt again, and that is OK. Kids are tough. Parents? That’s another story.

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