Just look at my poor baby's face.
I put him on the bed to watch cartoons so I could take a shower before we left for a wedding. I knew I should have checked on him. I thought about checking on him. I called out to ask if he was okay, but I never actually, physically opened the shower curtain to lay eyes on him. When I finished and finally opened the curtain, he had Gilbert's razor in his hand. He was smiling. Not mischievously. Just smiling like he was glad to see me. It wasn't until I started the, "Oh, my goodness! Are you okay? We don't play with Daddy's razor!" that he even considered something might be up. I checked him over for blood. I checked hands, and then I noticed a small spot of red on his cheek. I calmly told him we were going to go clean up his boo-boo. It wasn't until I started cleaning that I realized how long it was and that he had a little nick also on his lip. Then the tears started. Not his. Mine. He said, "Sad, Mommy? You okay? You okay?" Then he started kissing me. The more tears I cried, the more he kissed. He nuzzled his face against mine while I washed his cut. It was the sweetest thing.
I needed my blogging family to tell me stories of ridiculous parent blunders that resulted in injuries so I didn't feel so bad. I for sure didn't want to drag him to that wedding so I could tell over and over the story about how I took a shower while my two year old played with a razor. But I did. And I don't think anybody scowled at me like I thought they would. A few even shared stories of their own mistakes. So I guess I'm over it. Until next time I look at that sweet, marred face. Which will be, like, in the next 10 seconds.