A couple of hours ago I finished up some cake decorating, came upstairs to upload some pics and post and Ben yells from downstairs "Jackson's bleeding!". Calm panic sets in, you know, the kind that takes over when you are really worried but instict kicks in and you see everything in slow motion?
Jackson comes running up the stairs and it takes a moment or two for Ben and I to figure out where exactly he's bleeding from. Both of his hands are bloody and he's dripping from somewhere. Quick check reveals no large, noticable life threatening wounds (thank goodness) and we finally found a small cut on the tip of his middle finger on his left hand. It's one of those deep, finger tip punctures that just won't stop bleeding but didn't seem to be causing him any pain, until of course, I touched it and then all hell broke loose.
Ben ran and got the first aid kit (thanks Jared H, for buying those for us!) and we quickly disentfected, applied pressure and a band-aide. One piece of chocolate later and he's a happy kid. The weird thing is that we went downstairs and scoured the house...no knives where left out, no glass on the floor, no scissors, no razors, nothing. All drawers are safely locked and everything is up. Unless the kid cut himself on a pair of socks there was nothing that could have injured him.
We, of course, tried to ask him "what hurt you baby?" to which we received no response except "Rock" indicating it was time for bed and he was ready to watch Fraggle Rock. I guess the motrin we gave him for any discomfort he may have felt kicked in.
Guess it's destined to be one of those mysteries...
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