Eliza is getting to an age where she takes chances and pushes her body to limits it might not be ready for – or maybe it is and I’m just not used to seeing scabby knees over and over and over and over again. Whatever the case, there seems to be a few more scrapes and bruises in her life. Ah heck. She’s the second born. I don’t sweat her small stuff.
Eliza, on the other hand… she sweats it. It’s a production.
You see, it doesn’t matter how low key you are. If your child is going to freak out, she’s going to FREAK OUT. All this, “Act like it’s no big deal and they will know it’s nothing to scream about” advice is really? Not all that useful when your child is, how does one put it…. “dramatic”. These things are very likely hard wired.
And now, I am officially absolving myself from any freak-out inflicted drama Franklin may possess. It’s clearly inherited. From his father. Because I am a rock of composure. Don’t “lol” me, sister. A rock, I am.
Eliza seems to have gone past the “I can’t use my limb!!!” dramatics while suffering through a healing bump or scrape however, we now find ourselves in entirely new territory. We can’t touch it, we can’t wash it and we can’t wear pants while she is suffering through the affliction but on top of ALL OF THIS, we have also added to our bedtime reading the Red Cross First Aid Book.
I’m not kidding you. I know this book like the back of my hand. I know the difference between the severity of burns, how to handle frostbite, what to do with a severed limb and how to flush out a foriegn object in the eye.
Hypothermia? I’m your girl.
Need to carry someone out of a burning building? I’ll help you out.
Someone’s unconscious? Give me a call.
A little while ago, the cbc was reporting that ER doctors wanted CPR training to be required in schools.
My first thought was, Baby Boomers.
My second thought was, “I’m totally covered”.