Staples. Yeah, that was easy.

My yard is a hazardous area to play. Of course, there is a giant gaping hole where the pool will go, and today they built the retaining wall. The bobcat was going back and forth for the fill and nitpak and wall blocks. So I made sure the boys were well clear of the action.

At the end of our driveway there is a split rail fence, behind which is a granite bench. In order for the guys to have easy access to the work site, we took down one part of the fence and the bench. This way, it is a straight shot from driveway to work site without having to go around and inflict more damage to G's well-manicured lawn. It was bad enough for him to digest seeing the track marks the bobcat made over the course of the day.

So anyway, the pieces of the granite bench were put to the side next to the adjoining fence. There is a huge and ugly pine tree at the corner of this fence that the boys like to climb. Remember, they were probably monkeys in their previous lives. Tommy had a friend over and Christopher's friend had just arrived. I was talking to the boy's mom when Jeffrey, ever the eager and confident child to challenge himself to his older brothers' acrobatics, climbed the fence in his attempt to swing from one of the ugly pine tree branches, as his brothers were doing. He had straddled the fence when he lost his balance and over one side he went. Guess what was beneath the fence? Right, the darn granite that had been moved for the landscapers! Right before my eyes, he flipped and Bam! I felt the impact as loud as I heard it when his head hit the stone. I rushed over and lifted a crying Jeffrey, cradling him in my arms as the blood from the gash on his head dripped down my arm.

Anyway, I'll spare you the boring details, but even though I know that head wounds bleed profusely, he had a deep enough cut that would require a staple or two. So I got the kids squared away and we headed to the ER. My concern that he might have suffered a concussion were eased every agonizing minute that passed in the examing room. I think it was a total of four times that he hit the red button that buzzes at the front desk. He attempted to get some extra oxygen, until a not-so-nice lady came in and rudely told me to keep him from touching it. He spun the stool a few times and played with the bed rails. In between, he was checked and some gooey stuff was stuck to his wound with a gauze for 20 minutes while it worked its magic in numbing the site. Just as I was getting tired of waiting and he had even grown bored of looking at the pictures in the hall, the PA (yeah, apparently his wound was so minor that we didn't even get a real doctor to treat him) gave him three staples, a popsicle, and we were sent home.

Two years ago, after he was born, my cesarean incision site had to be stapled. I was appalled that the stapler was going to be tossed away after a one-time use, so I tucked it in my bag and brought it home. It was a neat little instrument for which I was sure I could find a use, if not for its intended purpose. So in about 5 days, I will save myself a trip to the doctor and take his 3 little staples out myself. With the very stapler that was used to permanently close the door from which he was born. The irony, can you even stand it??