A Traumatic Day

It all started with the fighting. Constant bickering. I ordered them both outside. The Goblin Child complied. Mad. Slamming her way out the door. With both hands she emphatically shoved the door open. Hard.

Glass tinkled to the ground she stepped back staring at her hands in horror. I started to scream. She started to scream. I stopped and checked for blood. There was some. Nothing gushing though. 8 was quite upset by the whole thing. He was worried about her and near tears. He repeated over and over “I don’t know about this. This is bad, I don’t know about this. Lala’s going to be mad. I don’t know about this” He was cute but I was trying to deal with a screaming T.G.C. who was screaming that Lala was going to kill her. I considered the possibility that she might be right as I assured her that he wouldn’t. I thought back to putting my hand through the window in the back porch door and that my loving father had yelled at me. Now I understood why.

Taking her into the bathroom we washed up the blood. What little there was. And got her covered in band aids. I had to get a picture. The scrapes were little. She wasn’t really hurt.  I worried the small injuries would put a stop to our plans to go to the lake after lunch. She sat around and moaned about how bad they hurt. She whined that it stung and look how much skin this one had taken off! By lunch she had quieted and we made it to the lake afterwards.

There they played and swam and mostly forgot about the injury. Until they were home and in the tub. Apparently there are salts in a bath bomb. It hurt again. Out of the tub they forgot about how much fun they had had and that they briefly liked each other at the lake and bickered all afternoon. Finally unable to take the fighting any longer I ordered them both outside. Starting to sound familiar?

No doors were broken on the way out. They played happily for awhile. Then I heard Gus screaming. I met him at the door. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with him. I asked where he got hurt. I meant on him. He wanted to show me where exactly. By the time he pulled me far enough to understand that it had been the tree I insisted on seeing where on his body he had been hurt. I pulled his shirt up to see his torso covered in scrapes. He couldn’t hold still long enough for me to check him all over but I had the idea. Attempting to carry him in the house without hurting any of his injuries we went in to tend to him. A few band aids weren’t going to take care of this.

I didn’t get any pictures of him. He was actually hurt. He sobbed on my lap for awhile telling me that he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. settling down for awhile he was ok until I pulled up his shirt for another look and he saw one of the scratches. He cried again until he cried himself to sleep on my lap. The hearty dose of Ibuprofen could have helped that along a little.

Thankfully neither of them were seriously injured. Both wrecks could have been bad. 8 will be sore tomorrow but is otherwise relatively free from harm. The door window will be dropped off at the hard wear store to have the window replaced by a piece of plexi glass. I may have suffered the worst of the day. Having both children try to kill themselves in one day is more than I can handle.