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.