Oh, the pain of an almost-three-year-old falling directly onto your nose. I saw stars, checked that my two front teeth were, in fact, still attached, and excused myself just as my nose began bleeding. It's been probably twenty years since I had my last nosebleed, but I stopped it up fairly quickly, dulled my pain with carmelized brussel sprouts (GAH! Adore!) and a wee bit o' white wine, and forgot the incident.
Griffin awoke around 4:45, and I brought him into our bed for his early morning nursing session, as I always do. As usual, I drifted back to sleep while he had his snack, cuddling cozily up to his warm little baby self.
...until ten minutes later, when I awoke and sleepily wondered why Griffin's forehead was damp.
Yes, you see where I'm going with this. Yes, my nosebleed had come back with a vengeance, ALL OVER my sweet baby's head. Yes, sopping up your blood from your sleeping baby's face is a delightful way to begin the week.
Little G looked like he was part of a super-tough baby street gang and had just been in a rumble with the babies from the wrong side o' the tracks. Or maybe HE'S the baby from the wrong side o' the tracks?
|Don't freak out - those are beets, not my blood. I couldn't resist.|