I knew with six (going on eight) children, sooner or later we were bound to have someone need stitches. If asked a week ago, I would have put my sweet five-year old Sophia at the bottom of the list of the child who would be the first to need them.
The girls tell me she was upset she hit her head, but didn't really cry. Then they all noticed the blood. There was lots of blood. Preteen girls and blood don't mix and all I heard was the clamor all the way up the stairs and lots of high pitched chatter as it seemed all of them were trying to tell me what happened. Once I had something to stop the bleeding and had cleaned her up a little, I sent a few girls upstairs for Dad. I gave them strict instructions to be very calm and tell him that I need him to take a look at Sophia.
He came down and said he'd see me in a few hours. Of course since it was 9 PM on a Friday night, all the Urgent Care facilities had closed for the night. His only option was the ER. Apparently the ER on a Friday night is a very happening place and a five year old with a small head wound isn't a high priority. It was after 2 AM when sweet Sophia came jumping into my bed to tell me all about her adventure. Time is relative to her because she said they waited so so so long, like an hour and a half. She jumped at the first stitch, but never cried. She was a real trooper according to Dad.