Benj, look at Mama.

Another day, another head contusion.  Holy Moly, this kid is going to be the death of me.

We were at Prisma (a grocery store- kind of like a mini Walmart), and I let him out to play floorball.  Later, I strapped him back in the stroller, except I didn’t actually remember to STRAP him in.  About two minutes later, while I was looking at on-sale winter gear (never too early to begin stocking up!), I heard “Mama!” Then a THUMP then a scream.  Benjy was on the floor, holding his head where he’d whacked it on the floor.

After some cuddling and singing on that cold, dirty floor, I calmed him down and passified him with promises of McDonald’s.

Later, I asked him to show me his wound so I could document ANOTHER knob on his head.

This is what he did.

So, I said, “Benj, look at Mama,” expecting him to turn his head so I could see his wound better.  And the little stinker did just what I asked.

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