Clayton, bless his heart, clearly inherited my gracefulness. Last night, while walking/running into his bedroom to get into bed, he tripped on the bookcase, lost his balance, and hit his head on the corner of the dresser. After about 30 minutes of uncertainty and a second opinion by Grandma, we decided to take him to the emergency room just to make sure he didn't need stitches.
Apparently he did, as evidenced by the three shiny staples visible in his head in the above picture. Taking after his big brother, he viewed the who experience mostly as an adventure, only crying when they put the medicine on and then STAPLED his head.
Did I mention they stapled my baby's head?
Blaack.
Anyway, his only issue this morning was whether or not his friends were going to be able to see the staples. I made the mistake of washing the blood out of his hair which caused the hair to pretty much cover up the staples. Not cool. I had to attempt to rewet the hair and brush it in a way that they would be revealed. Of course.
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