A lovely Sunday morning. Zoe decided she should take a shower WITH me. I've already notified Jeff that the more this happens the less shaving happens. Out of the shower, Zoe figures all the mommy talk about drying off first is over-rated and take off. Splat.
I sit down with her and see the blood. Then I see the gaping wound on her chin. Now, in Jeff's defense, he had just woken up and had taken Nyquil the night before. Jeff squats down to look, then stands up and nearly passes out. Hmmm. Mental note for the next 16 years of child accidents.
This is not my first time at the rodeo, and although I am sure we need some kind of closure to happen, I am not going to Urgent Care in a towel. So I plunk Zoe down in the living room with a towel and the TV and go to get dressed, brush my teeth and dry my hair. This is 7 minutes well spent for me. I did put on the dirty clothes on the closet floor, because the t-shirt was black and I will be toting a bloody child around.
Thanks to the highly tattooed man with the go-tee for the quick check-in. $100, a tube of glue and some steri-strips and we are set. Excellent mother I am, I tried to get a good photo of it. But my subject was not exactly cooperative.
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