A funny thing happened on the way to the shower...

At seven this morning, I was lying, half asleep, on the living room couch downstairs trying to get Eliza to settle down for another half hour or so of sleep. I heard a funny conversation take place in the upstairs bathroom. Wendy was showering, and I heard the thump of Ian hopping out of bed, and I heard him tromp his way to the bathroom to wish his mother good morning.

Ian: "Hi, Mom."
Wendy: "Hi, Ian. How are...AAAAAHHH what happened?"
Ian (defensive): "Nothing."
Wendy: "What did you do to your head?"
Ian (adamant): "Nothing!"
Wendy: "Mike get up here."

I went upstairs with the wide awake Eliza, and this is what I saw:

















In the bedroom, I saw a pillow case smeared with dried blood and little bloody hand prints on the edge of the mattress. The blood made a little trail down to the origin of the crime scene....the chest of drawers (chester drawers if you ask Ian). There, by the corner, was a pool of blood about 8 inches in diameter. As far as I can tell, Ian rolled out of bed, bumped his head, bled for a little while, and then crawled back into bed for a few more hours of rest.

Once he looked at himself in the mirror, the boy became a little upset and began to understand why his mother was less than happy to see him first thing that morning. He was more upset when I informed him that we had to take a trip to the hospital. He was so upset, they had to sedate him for the stitches. The drugs loosened him up, and when he came to, he was best friends with the nurse. He sat and told her stories about the days when he was two, and she looked at me to ask if they were true while I nodded and confirmed the accuracy of his memory of events from over a year ago. The nurses and the doctors were pretty impressed with his vocabulary, and I told them to come over and be impressed at ten o'clock at night when he won't stop talking to go to sleep. In the end, Ian is pretty funny kid when he is coming out of sedation. When he sat up, he said, "Whoa! It looks like the clock is moving at me!" and he asked if the doctor used a sewing machine to close the wound.

Here he is, post stitches.