He's okay though! By dinner time, he was back to pulling "Da-da-vieve's" hair and climbing up the back of chairs with his injured hand.
How could something so preventable happen? It was an accident, like most injuries are at my house. Jason was sitting on a stool in the kitchen, watching his big sister cook eggs. She turned to put his egg on his plate and he just put his hand down. Genna was quick to put his hand under cold water and I ended up taking him in to the pediatrician when those big ugly blisters appeared and he wouldn't stop crying.
Ian and Genna had a contest to see how many sibling injuries they each caused. They counted stitches (Shane's head given by Ian and Lula's chin given by Genna), a chipped tooth (again Ian and Shane), and this new one. I had to stop listening; I don't know what the final score was.
While we were at the pediatrician, Jason heard a baby in the next room crying. He turned to me and said, "Mama, baby crying. Mama, go get baby. Mama, go get baby! Go hug baby!" He was pulling on my hand, trying to get me to go with him to rescue the baby. I had a hard time telling him that the baby wasn't mine and not my responsibility. How am I supposed to encourage his compassion and desire to help? Luckily he was easy to distract. But isn't that sweet? He wanted to save the crying baby!
The pediatrician only wanted to soak his hand for five minutes and put Neosporin on the blisters. She looked at me funny when I told her I didn't give him any acetaminophen for the pain because he just spits it out, so I just gave his inner arm a massage. "The massage confuses the neural pathways between his fingertips and his brain, so he doesn't feel the pain as much," I explained. Good thing I didn't tell her I was planning on treating his burns with diluted lavender oil in a few days when the blisters go down!
