This morning Carter was walking in the upstairs hallway when he suddenly started screaming.
“AHHHHHH!!! THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY FOOT!”
The decibel level of his scream had to have set some sort of record.
And as I suspected, it was the absolute worst possible thing that can happen in a young boy’s life…he had a splinter.
“Let me see it…you have to let me see it…stop moving or I can’t help you.”
The whole not moving thing was not happening. Turns out when you are that distraught and your world is ending and your foot is falling off the last thing you want to do it let someone touch it. I decided to throw him into the tub to soak it and see where we could go from there.
The tub did NOT help and the screaming continued. But I obviously had to get it out so I got out my chainsaw:
Chainsaw, tweezers, no difference in the mind of a 4 year old with a splinter...
I tried to hold his leg still while I worked but remember that time I put him in the tub?
Screaming + Thrashing + Water = WHY THE HELL DID I PUT HIM IN THE TUB!
At this point Grant had discovered what was going on and was busy jumping on my back and screaming “He doesn’t like that!”
It’s nice that you’re defending your brother, but piss off kid.
I tried to get Carter out of the tub but turns out he couldn’t walk. I know this because he screamed it in my face for five minutes straight: “I can’t walk…I can’t even WALK!”
My next move was what I think any rational, loving mother would do…I threatened to take him to the hospital so they could cut off his foot.
“But then I won’t be able to walk.”
“Well, you just said you can’t do that anyway. So it will be absolutely no different. Let’s go.”
I was apparently wrong when I said that his original scream was a record setter…
I had now officially gotten to the point where I could no longer deal with the situation. So I did a very mature and grown-up thing…I called my Mommy.
She came over and retold the whole “a doctor will have to cut your foot off” story only she also added:
“And they’ll have to hold you down and use a big knife.”
Anyone still confused as to where I picked up my parenting skills?
Well, we finally managed to bribe him/threaten him/wrangle him into letting us remove the splinter. That little shit piece of wood consumed my whole morning (and I’m now part deaf in my left ear). I think it would have in fact been easier to remove his foot.
That’s the route I’m taking next time.