A right of passage

(Gus and Daddy after our return from the hospital...that's blood and drool on Gus' hoodie...and he was still not sure if things were going to be OK again)

It wasn't Friday the 13th (missed that by one day) and it wasn't Gus' 18-month-birthday (that's Saturday). It was a quiet unassuming Thursday morning...our little friend Ellie had come over for a visit and all three of us were out in the backyard, doing chores...I can't say I was distracted, or not looking. In fact, I looked straight at Gus and all I can say is that my brain didn't register what I was seeing until it was too late...Gus had alrady stuck his left middle finger into the empty can in the recycling tub that I had set down for only a moment...unfortunately the lid was still attached and the edges sharp...as I lept to my feet and grabbed the can, Gus pulled his finger out...slicing his fingertip...

After that I have a couple of minutes I don't remember...somehow I must have grabbed a papertowel, dialed Jacob on the cell and assured Ellie that everything was going to be alright...all the while Gus screamed and the blood flowed...and I held him and tried to soothe him.

I have not been prepared for this. In fact, I have been in denial about this. No child of mine will ever encounter harm and I will never not know how to make a bubu go away...on the third papertowel and with Gus seemingly unconvinced that the pain would ever go away, I felt helpless as I stared at all the blood coming out of my little toddler...how much would there be?

Well, today things are OK again (see that little bandaid, that's all that's left, and Gus has barely noticed it, no stitches, no apparent discomfort) and I'm feeling a bit wiser and calmer. We survived the ER, we rested and read books and and I searched and sorted through my memory and second guessed all my decisions that led up to the accident. The pizza we had the night before, the can of pineapple chunks, I decided to garnish with, my habit of not removing the entire lid. The fact that the can sat in the sink in the morning and I washed it out and added it to the recycling bin. I don't know what made me set the bin down, likely something else caught my eye and needed attention. I remember watching Gus inspecting the milk carton....then everything went into a tailspin...

There is no meaning in assigning guilt, but there is always a chance to examine and learn. I'm so grateful Gus is OK and I'm determined to remove all lids and never leave the recycling bin out of my sight again...