My son cut me with a razor blade last night. I know. It sounds painful, which it was, but it was more devastating to me that I wasn't paying attention to the fact that the razor blade was within his reach.
To make a short story long, my son wanted very badly to help me hang up a new wall fixture. I took out the tool box and grabbed the hammer. He climbed up on the stool with me and was helping me pound in the first few nails but he got pretty bored and decided to climb back down the ladder while I finished the project.
So, there I am, two steps up the ladder, pounding the nail into the wall with one hand while trying to hold on to the fixture with the other and I suddenly feel this painful and somewhat familiar feeling on my leg and before I even look down, I know what's happening.
Sure enough, there is my son, holding a bright yellow razor blade which he pulled out of the tool box and dragged down my ankle towards my foot. I took a deep breath - stopped myself from screaming at him like I wanted to do - and stepped slowly down the ladder and asked him to hand the razor blade to me.
I pointed to my leg and the blood dripping down my foot and asked, "Did you see what just happened?" His face went white as he realized that it was blood and that he was responsible.
I had one of two options here. I chose to focus on the blood first so I insisted that he help me clean it up and put bandages on. Since it was a nice, straight line down my foot, and since I did not want band-aids with Winnie the Pooh characters highlighting my new boo-boo, it took 4 standard size band-aids to cover it up.
He knew that he did something wrong but seeing as how he was merely experimenting with this new tool, I really couldn't punish him. After all, he has never seen a razor blade before and had no idea what would happen when he used it the way he did.
We had "the talk" where I pointed out to him that Mommy made a big mistake in having the tool box out and not paying attention to what he was doing. I told him how important it is to not touch tools unless an adult says it's alright.
If I had to do it over again, I would've put the tool box back in the cabinet where it's usually kept - above the refrigerator - where even I have to get out a step stool to retrieve it.
If I had to do it over again, I'd take the razor blade out of the tool box and replace it with this awesome Klever Kutter that I recently discovered through one of my favorite sites, PreschoolRock.com.
My son is now at that stage where I need to take home safety issues more seriously. After all, he's his father's son, which means he is curious, confident, and especially comfortable with tools so it's no surprise that he would pick something up and test it out.
Luckily, he was not hurt. And I have learned a valuable lesson. And, while I should know better, I have to wonder if single parents end up in the emergency room with their children more often than those with a co-parent in the same home?
I'll have a scar, no doubt, from this little experiment, but I am going to be much more diligent about home safety and keeping tabs on him.
Yep, another reason to vote for me for the Parent of the Year award. Have you heard of it? Do you have your own parenting stories to share? I sure hope so because I'm feeling pretty down about the situation and could use other people's stories to help me focus on the fact that there are other parents out there who may have regrets about what they've said or done. I can't even keep track these days...
To make a short story long, my son wanted very badly to help me hang up a new wall fixture. I took out the tool box and grabbed the hammer. He climbed up on the stool with me and was helping me pound in the first few nails but he got pretty bored and decided to climb back down the ladder while I finished the project.
So, there I am, two steps up the ladder, pounding the nail into the wall with one hand while trying to hold on to the fixture with the other and I suddenly feel this painful and somewhat familiar feeling on my leg and before I even look down, I know what's happening.
Sure enough, there is my son, holding a bright yellow razor blade which he pulled out of the tool box and dragged down my ankle towards my foot. I took a deep breath - stopped myself from screaming at him like I wanted to do - and stepped slowly down the ladder and asked him to hand the razor blade to me.
I pointed to my leg and the blood dripping down my foot and asked, "Did you see what just happened?" His face went white as he realized that it was blood and that he was responsible.
I had one of two options here. I chose to focus on the blood first so I insisted that he help me clean it up and put bandages on. Since it was a nice, straight line down my foot, and since I did not want band-aids with Winnie the Pooh characters highlighting my new boo-boo, it took 4 standard size band-aids to cover it up.
He knew that he did something wrong but seeing as how he was merely experimenting with this new tool, I really couldn't punish him. After all, he has never seen a razor blade before and had no idea what would happen when he used it the way he did.
We had "the talk" where I pointed out to him that Mommy made a big mistake in having the tool box out and not paying attention to what he was doing. I told him how important it is to not touch tools unless an adult says it's alright.
If I had to do it over again, I would've put the tool box back in the cabinet where it's usually kept - above the refrigerator - where even I have to get out a step stool to retrieve it.
If I had to do it over again, I'd take the razor blade out of the tool box and replace it with this awesome Klever Kutter that I recently discovered through one of my favorite sites, PreschoolRock.com.
My son is now at that stage where I need to take home safety issues more seriously. After all, he's his father's son, which means he is curious, confident, and especially comfortable with tools so it's no surprise that he would pick something up and test it out.
Luckily, he was not hurt. And I have learned a valuable lesson. And, while I should know better, I have to wonder if single parents end up in the emergency room with their children more often than those with a co-parent in the same home?
I'll have a scar, no doubt, from this little experiment, but I am going to be much more diligent about home safety and keeping tabs on him.
Yep, another reason to vote for me for the Parent of the Year award. Have you heard of it? Do you have your own parenting stories to share? I sure hope so because I'm feeling pretty down about the situation and could use other people's stories to help me focus on the fact that there are other parents out there who may have regrets about what they've said or done. I can't even keep track these days...
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