Last night was our second trip to the emergency room with a child.  The first trip was less than a year ago when Gresham pole-vaulted from an ottoman over the couch and into a lamp and table, poking a jagged hole through his eyelid.  Gnarly.

Last night Penelope, a one year old novice walker with a mouth full of teeth, fell and bit a hole through her tongue.

Well, it turned out that it wasn’t through but pretty stinkin’ close.  She definitely had a gash on the top of her tongue but what we thought was an exit wound beneath was only a very dark bruise. After more than three hours at the emergency room entertaining her with blown up hospital gloves, Kleenex boxes that magically never run out tissue, and a TV playing Univision “comedy”, I was given the choice of a stitch or “wait and see” how well it heals in the next few days.  I couldn’t take putting her through stitches on her tongue (!!) so we’re waiting.  We’re eating popsicles and waiting.

Waiting for that bill too.  Ouch.

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