With three new sleds in tow (early Christmas presents in celebration of a couple of inches of fresh fallen snow this morning), the kids and I raced for the single solitary hill in the area. As the first early birds on the hill we revelled in the snow, raced down the hill and made snow angels. It was great fun, until a couple of older kids joined us on the hill and one of them flew down the hill at just the moment Bubs had slid to a stop down there and was getting up. I watched helplessly from the top as she knocked him off his feet, and then ran/slid down as it registered that my three year old was a bloody mess. Those darn head wounds bleed like the dickens, they do. A large chunk of the girl's eye tooth was embedded in his forehead. Serves her right for messing with my boy. As she ran off squealing to her mother (who never got out of her car until the squealing began - seriously!) Bubs looked up and asked to go home.
He sports several stitches now and should be quite proud of the ruckus he's caused around here. Big brother and big sister are a bit in awe of his bravery getting stitched up. And as for him, he would prefer not to be strapped down to a papoose board ever again.
2 comments:
Bet it's not the last. Kind of reminds me of his mother. Just a little high and to the right. g-ma
Poor guy. I told my mom your story. She is taking mine sledding to soldier hallow on Monday. I think they may be sporting their bike helmets.
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