Jinx! 1, 2, 3 . . .

One week. That's how long it took. Last Saturday I caught myself remarking to a friend about how, despite the fact that each of our children has required a trip to the ER (Lukas aspirated a peanut when he was 2, Jaz fell out of a two-story window when he was 3, and Zeben was breathing too fast as a newborn), none of the kids has ever needed stitches. It IS rather remarkable, given the extreme physicality of our kids (especially Jaz, who has had NINE black eyes so far), but I realized as I was saying it that it's probably not the kind of thing one should say out loud. Counting my blessings before they've split their heads open on a wooden toy.

Yesterday afternoon, Jaz came into the kitchen, whimpering a little. He'd been playing some sort of silly running-around-the-house-getting-progressively-more-naked game, and had apparently bonked himself somewhere.

"Where are you hurt?" Lena and I both asked before noticing the blood splash, splash, splashing onto his back from his head. We grabbed a cloth, and then worked our way through his mop of bloody hair to discover the source of the bleeding, and found a gash that definitely looked like it needed stitches. We decided to call the doctor to see if we could just bring him into University Health Services (where our insurance prefers us to go if possible) or if we needed to take him to the dreaded hospital. The best part of the conversation:

Nurse: "How did he get hurt?"
Me: "He fell and hit his head on a toy."
Nurse: "What kind of toy?"
Me: "A wooden toy."
Nurse: "What kind of wooden toy, exactly?"
Me: "A boat designed to transport trains??!!"
Nurse: "Well, you should bring him in then."

So Lena wrapped his head up in a bandage and brought him in, and he did need stitches. Four stitches, to be exact.

Jaz really wasn't in much pain at all, and was actually rather thrilled to hear that he'd be going to the doctor to get stitched up. Poor Lukas was a bit of a wreck while Lena and Jaz were gone (while Jaz is usually the one getting badly hurt/almost drowning/falling out the window/etc., Lukas has had to go through the trauma of watching all of these events unfold, which in some ways must be more damaging than if it were his body getting beat up), and then only the tiniest bit jealous once his brother returned, beaming, with thread in his head.

And I have learned my lesson. I will certainly not be telling anyone about the miracle of the fact that none of the kids has broken a bone yet. Yikes. Did I just jinx myself again?