Burnt Piggies

If you're familiar with Audrey and Don Wood's children's book, Piggies, you may realize that I'm referring to fingers. Nine days ago we went out to a Mexican restaurant to celebrate a friend's birthday. Quincy was sitting on a friend's lap when the food was delivered. He suddenly screamed a screaming cry that I had never heard before. Within seconds I knew something was definitely hurting him. It didn't take me long to realize that he had reached out and touched the very hot plate of food that had just been delivered. To make a long and agonizing story short, he cried and cried for about half an hour. I left the restaurant shortly, and by the time we got home he had developed the largest blisters I've ever seen. They went all the way across the top of his palm and all the way up his index and pinky fingers. The blisters were as thick as his own little fingers. Amazingly, within a few minutes of being home he was his normal cheery self smiling and playing--even using his right hand normally.
It has now been 9 days, and his poor hand is still healing. The blisters stayed intact for about 4 days, and the healing process has definitely been more challenging since they broke. The good news is that he is healing, and he uses his thumb and index finger pretty effectively while protectively keeping the rest of his fingers closed around the top of his palm.
It was an accident that could have happened to anyone. Yet it felt terrible that to me that I didn't foresee it and wasn't able to prevent it!
And as if that wasn't enough burnt piggies in this house...Owen had a little incident tonight.
We were already having a bit of a weird night. Brady is gone to Newport where he is coaching at a basketball tournament this weekend. I'm here with the boys, and our night was progressing pretty normally. We had dinner and were doing baths in preparation for bed. I had already gotten Quincy out and dressed. Then I got Owen out, and he was lying on the bathroom floor waiting for me to get him dressed in his PJ's when he suddenly threw up without any warning. It was so strange! He was lying on his back, so the puke got in his hair and everywhere else. Obviously it was back into the bath for him.
I finally got Owen dressed in PJ's and downstairs where he was patiently waiting for Quincy to nurse and fall asleep. When Q was finally ready to be put in his bed, Owen lead the way into the bedroom. Earlier I had turned on the lamp on my nightstand and bent the neck as far down as I could to reduce the amount of light it would give off. Well, Owen walked over to it and grabbed it by the light bulb area to move it up! It was awful! It was like watching the whole thing in slow motion...even the couple of seconds it took for him to start to cry after he pulled his hand away.
I knew it was really hurting him when he didn't want to let go of the boo boo buddy ice pack. We put fresh aloe on it (didn't realize the little plant would come in so handy right away, huh mom?) as well as lots of kisses. He told me amidst tears and little sobs, "That was very, very, very hot. That hurt! That was bad listening." The last part refers to us telling him over and over again not to touch lamps. (Sigh) If only we could make them always listen...they wouldn't have to learn anything the hard way.
Well, this is not a very uplifting post, but I'm going to cycle the barf towels through the laundry and head to bed. Maybe tomorrow I'll have time to write about our trip to Boulder this past week.