That's two . . .

I've always heard that bad things come in threes . . .

*The first time was when Dad was visiting.

The girls have a large glass jar in their bathroom that holds all the barrettes, bows, and scrunchies. The Dadster was exiting the shower and made a grab for the towel he had laid on the countertop. The towel dragged the lid off the jar and onto the floor.

Tile floor means shattered glass means bloody gash in the big guys foot.
(I'll spare you the photos. Lets just say he's somewhat of a free bleeder.)

Luckily, the cut was on an angle. After we stopped the bleeding, everything sort of flopped back into place sealed up nicely.
It was ugly for a week or two, but finally healed up.

*The second time was two days ago.

Shelby was getting the cereal out of the pantry. Somehow, the glass jar of maple syrup was knocked off the shelf.
It hit the floor, threw glass and sticky all over, and sliced the top of my babies foot!

Shelby was a little wobbly on the way to the couch. I asked if the sight of blood made her feel dizzy.
She said, "Well, yeah, when it's mine!"
I cleaned the foot well enough to get a good look and told her I was pretty sure she needed a few stitches. That's when she really swooned. Literally.

She begged not to go.
She said she'd rather have a scar like the grand canyon than have to go to the ER.
I reminded her that she'd soon be sixteen and rockin' the strappy sandals.
"Hang the sandals! You fix me!"

After a little deliberation, and an extended examination, Joe made a quick run to the 'I'm-not-a-doctor-but-I-play-one-at-home' section of the superstore.

I'm sure, it would be a little more sturdy with stitches holding everything together, but we did fairly well with gauze pads and steri-strips. She'll just have to stay off of it for a while.


*I guess if everything really does come in threes, we need to invest in steel toed boots!