Ringing In The New Year . . . John Style

Violet went to a party on New Year's Eve -- I know.  Sarah played Xbox with my husband. I? Spent New Year's Eve in the emergency room with John.

I know.

He was helping my husband unload wood from our trailer. We don't usually let him near the trailer. But he was so excited to help. So we let him. They were almost done when he took off running toward the garage door, tripped over his own feet (because his shoes were on the wrong feet. And I let him keep them that way.) and his ear was sliced by the edge of the trailer.

It could have been so much worse. So much. My husband thought he'd laid his face wide open because of the way John screamed. He ran him inside the house and took his hand off John's face, his own face dead white.

And there was nothing. Not a scratch. But John was freaking out. So I put an ice pack on it, and John continued to freak out. When I took the ice pack off his ear lobe bent back in a very unnatural way and I just said, "Well. I guess we're going to the ER."

I told Sarah, "Tell Daddy that John's ear is bleeding. Calmly." She ran outside and stated, "Daddy. John's ear is bleeding. Calmly."

I laughed.

We loaded the kids up and headed to AI Children's Hospital. John cried, but was fine by the time we got there. His ear? Barely bleed. And I said, "It's OK. It's just an ear lobe."

We spent the next four hours waiting to see if they would suture or glue his ear, as it was the lobe itself that was cut.

At 11:00 they decided to glue it. At 11:15 we were in the car and heading home.

My brother keeps calling him Van. (as John would say, "get it? Do you? Van Gogh??)