This year, only 7 days old, has already included a trip to the emergency room. Now, while these trips have happened on occasion in the past, for various reasons, including blood, high fevers and open wounds – this time it was for The Man.
These occasional trips to the emergency room are typically for The Monkey’s. And, of course, they don’t have standard injuries, like falling off their bike, or hurting themselves on the playgrounds. No, no, that is much too boring. They have more unlikely injuries, like the time Monkey #1 jumped off of the top of his fire truck bed (not to be confused with a fire fuck) and landed face first on a baby gate. Or, the time that Crash ran down the hallway and slammed head first into the rocking chair. They may have a future in extreme sports, and they have the scars (and the lack of fear) to prove it.
This whole fiasco started because I wanted to make vegetable soup. The Man, being super helpful, offered to cut the veggies for me. (Side note: If The Man is reading this, this is not an excuse to blame me for the outcome.)
I pulled out the carrots, celery and cabbage I wanted cut up for the soup, and left the kitchen.
I guess at this point I should mention that we have the most ridiculous amount kitchen gadgets in our home. Some were gifts, some purchased by ourselves. The one we use most often is the fancy mandoline.
It had been a gift several Christmases ago from family. We really do use it. Not like the other 900 kitchen gadgets that sit in the cupboard collecting dust (not that dust collects in our house, *ahem*)…
Anyway. It Julienne’s.
This is where The Man got into trouble. He got cocky. A little rebellious. He scoffed at using the cowboy hat. (What? You don’t know what a cowboy hat is?)
Basically, the sole purpose of the Cowboy Hat is to shield your fingers from the blades. Did I mention the extremely sharp blades?
So, very sharp. The Man ran into a problem, only a half of a carrot in. (And, by ‘problem’ I mean his finger.)
Next thing I know he is running down the hallway to the bathroom sink. (At this point, if blood makes you queasy, you should stop reading.)
The Man: I cut my finger!
Me: Weren’t you using the cowboy hat?
The Man: No, I thought I could do it without it!
Me: Clearly, not.
At this point, we try to get it to stop bleeding, and I try to clean up the blood that is all over the sink.
Me: How bad is it?
The Man: Not that bad.
Me: Do you need stitches?
The Man: No. Maybe. I don’t know.
Me: Let me see it.
At this point, I notice only one main cut that is still bleeding. It is hard to tell how deep it is, but it looks gross. So, off we went, with The Monkey’s in tow, to the ER.
NOT even THREE, but FOUR cuts.
Luckily for him, they opt for the liquid adhesive to close the wounds. He was a champ, or maybe he cried. I don’t know because I was trying to keep The Monkey’s busy in a boring emergency room.
But, eventually he came out with this -
So. In conclusion, always use the cowboy hat. Always.
Lest, your father-in-law starts to call you Julienne.
Oh, and sorry for the crappy phone photos. It was the best I could do. Next time, video!