Yesterday was my day to take Jill and the neighbor to gymnastics. It is actually quite relaxing. I like watching them. Emmi stays home with Kenny. I sit for an hour and a half. Sometimes I even read.
I came home to find Kenny extremely frustrated.
"You would not believe how naughty that baby has been!" He had even worked up a sweat chasing her around. In the hour I had been gone, she had removed various items from the fridge either hiding them elsewhere or flinging them across the room, she then spent a good fifteen minutes trying to slam the cabinet doors in the kitchen. When that earned her time out, she started hitting Kenny. I walked into the kitchen to an assault of tomatoes. Seriously. She was throwing tomatoes at me!
Dinner did not go much better. She never sat down. Not once. And? Knowing that we were all occupied with eating gave her more opportunity to be naughty. By the time dinner was over, we were exhausted from chasing her around the house and fighting her in time out.
Jill? Was great. I let her have some ice cream, she was so well behaved. Kenny walked out back to sit by himself for a minute. I was washing up the dinner dishes, when I heard Emmi scream. Immediately after the scream, I realized I could hear water running in my bathroom. Great. Just great. She probably turned on the hot water, and burned her little feet.
I ran into the bathroom, and all I could see was a tub full of blood. It took me a minute to register that there was a razor out. And then I saw her hand. Or what was left off it. She had cut off the skin of her thumb. With my razor. And it was bad. It took a good five minutes (which felt like eternity) to slow the bleeding down enough to get her dressed. We rushed off to the hospital.
Ten minutes after we walked in the door, they had us back in a room. I think the fact that she was dripping blood on their floor moved us ahead of the ten thousand people with the flu (one of whom was wearing sunglasses at 7:30pm indoors). And? There was nothing they could do besides stop the bleeding. You can't stitch it. There is nothing to stitch in an cut like that. The bandaged her up, gave her some good happy drugs for the night and a big dose of antibiotics, explained that she probably will never have a thumbprint on that finger (as it will just be scar tissue), and sent us on the way.
She woke up three times last night. The first time, she had pulled the bandaged off and was bleeding again. It took both Kenny and I to hold her down to rebandage the finger. She refused to take the medicine, so I had to fight her to get her to take it, pouring it in her mouth, then blowing hard on her face to make her swallow (works everytime, and learned it from the vet!).
After Kenny and I crawled back into bed around 2:30 this morning, Kenny giggles. "She has no finger print. She'll make a great bank robber!"
Well, we certainly know she is naughty enough.