Sometimes they just have to learn the hard way I guess....why rules are there to protect us...and why doing dangerous things is really not a great idea.
This all happened last Sunday morning...it was a wreck. Patrick had Stake Priesthood Meeting at 7:00 am, I was trying to feed and get ready four people (myself included), Pola had a huge mess in her crate twice (oh did I mention we just a got a puppy) and Patrick was cleaning it up when it all happened....
I had the little ones bathed, the boys dressed, and Maylie with a diaper on when Patrick called to me from the basement asking for a rag.
The boys ran up-upstairs to play, I left Maylie in her room, and ran a rag down. Next thing I hear is screams. I assumed the boys were having a squabble so I rushed back to the main floor to see Easton sobbing that Tate was hurt...
And then Tate came around the corner dripping blood all over and crying uncontrollably. I rushed him to the bathroom, told Easton to get Daddy (and he just stood there and yelled, "Daddy," to which I told him to go downstairs and get him), put pressure on the wound with toilet paper, and finally Patrick came to take over my post. I was so grateful he was there. Blood and I don't mix well.
They came out of the bathroom and informed us they were going to the hospital for stitches.
It was quite the traumatic day, and I'm really glad it's over.
