My perfect little angel has his first blemish. Three stitches. Like his grandfather, aunt and his mother before him, Lucas will now have a lovely scar on his forehead. Guess leading with your head runs in the family.
After a spill at daycare last week, we spent my husband's birthday evening at Toronto East General, watching Treehouse, having snacks and waiting for the sutures.
I had to leave the room while the nurse and my husband held down Lucas, hearing his cries of "All Done, All Done!" After several hours in emergency, he drifted off to sleep on the car ride home. At home, some snuggles and whimpers and he soon settled down in his own bed.
His parents however were far from bed. The trip to the hospital had exhausted us but it was only then we could let down our guard and shed the brave faces we kept up for Lucas. I gasped when I first saw how deep the gash was but knew he would take my lead - if I reacted, he would react. So we stayed strong and calm until we were alone.
Lucas has been a model patient. He lets me treat his stitches and change his dressing daily, has learned a new way to wash his hair and listens when we stop him from jumping and banging about.
And we keep reminding him, chicks dig scars.
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