Jory comes out of the bathroom walking funny and not in his usual crawling, half-crawling, goofy walk sort of way, but in a “I’m hurt” sort of way.
“Jory, why are you walking like that?”
“My bottom’s bleeding.”
Whoa! Wait, a minute. “What did you just say?”
“My bottom’s bleeding.”
I got up from the sofa and steered him right back into the bathroom. I pulled down his pajama pants and underwear and saw tissue paper stuck to his bottom. He’s not bleeding from his anus, a terrifying thought that did cross my mind for a millisecond, but from his cheek. “What happened?”
“I scratched myself in the tub.”
How do you scratch yourself on the bottom of a fiberglass tub? I looked at his sore, looked in the tub which was amazingly toy free. Then that’s when it hit me, the stopper. We have the kind that screws in and out. “You have to be careful when taking the stopper out, you can hurt yourself with it, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll be careful,” he promised.
I put the tissue back on his sore, helped him redress, and then walked out the bathroom with a sigh of relief. You just never want to hear your child say bleeding and bottom in the same sentence.
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