Do you ever get a message, a little nudge? Maybe a speeding ticket when you are going a little too fast. And then you get the message just a little louder the next time? Maybe a little fender bender? And you thank your lucky stars for that second chance, that much needed message that was just a little bit louder?
After putting the knives up higher, further back, and out of even my reach, Bubba found them. He was just cutting an apple... with a butcher knife... blade-side up.
He sliced the tip of two of his fingers on his right hand. I am so grateful that is all that happened. The knives are going in a locked box in a locked cabinet.
After me nearly tossing my cookies when he came up to me and said "Mom, I think I hurt my hand." And then after nearly fainting when I removed my hand from the bleeding to see how deep it was, we made a trip to the ER.
After a three hour wait--Bubba perfectly content talking to other injured patients and me suffering near-puking nauseousness--the doctor opted to glue all of the various lacerated layers. We were concerned the stitches would lead to picking, which would lead to possible infection and reinjury.
So we arrived home at 10PM, ace bandage wrapped and bloodstained. I wasn't able to sleep. And I still feel nauseous. Bubba is all about telling everyone he cut himself with a "butcher's knife" and the only message I can hear now is the one echoing in my head with stabbing anxiety: Bubba crying softly and saying "I didn't know the knife would do that mom. I didn't know the knife would do that..."