Henry smashed his right pinky finger in a door as we were leaving to get Rose from Kindergarten this morning. At first I thought he’d tripped and fallen, because the pain was so great that he crumpled to the ground screaming. I didn’t take the time to ice his finger, both because he was refusing and also because he had already taken so long to get his shoes on (refusing any help–he’s all about complete independence, these days) that we were running late. He continued to wail all the way to Rose’s school and back, leading Rose to such expressions of sisterly compassion as, “Henry, stop making all that noise, I can’t hear anything!” and “You are so too crying, when you have something coming out of your mouth that’s a loud noise, that’s crying,” and “Mom, I want to take my nap right after my lunch, because I’m bored with Henry’s crying!”
During lunch Henry continued to cry and also demonstrated his lack of straw-using skills by copiously spilling chocolate milk all over his shirt, pants, chair, and the floor.
I gave Henry some children’s Ibuprofen before he went down for his nap. I said, “Here’s some medicine for your finger,” and he said, “No, for my mouth!” Now he and Rose and Hazel are all sound asleep. I expect Ike and Mabel home any minute, and for once I wish they didn’t get out of school early on Mondays, so the house could stay quiet for a while. Also, I’m torn between starting on my very long to-do list, or curling up with a book. Maybe I’ll make myself do a few chores and then let myself take a break. (I wouldn’t want myself to think I’m a mean boss.) I also hope Henry will wake up feeling better; otherwise I might have a trip to the Urgent Care clinic ahead of me this afternoon.
I can’t think of an illustration for this post–maybe I can find a photo of Henry crying.
Well, that was easy. All I had to do was look for the photos he hadn’t wanted to be in. I’m also including a happy post-Twinkie pic, for balance.
Update: I’m happy to say that after Henry’s long nap, he says his finger doesn’t hurt anymore. I had suspected his extreme reaction earlier was partly exacerbated by having been up late last night and up very early this morning.
I used to tell Dean, “When Henry eventually hits a stage where he’s more difficult to deal with, we need to remember what an easy-going, compliant baby and toddler he’s been.” And he really was. Now he’s still sweet and adorable . . . but his literalness, fierce independence, and inflexibility do challenge all of our patience on an hourly basis.