N: Mooooo-oooooom, I'm going to grow my spikeys todayyyyyyy!"
Me: Uh, Bocker? What are you talking about?
N: You know, (rolls eyes and holds his hand palm up) like daddy has? I'm going to grow up big and get my spikeys!
Me: Yeahhhhh, but what the heck are 'spikeys' anyway? (knowing full well, but wanting to hear it from him)
N: (rolling eyes again and sighing) You know, on my FACE, just like Daddy! I can feel them growing right NOW!
Yesterday we had a dental appt. for the middle three. It was a very opportune thing because on Friday night, Niklaus was goofing around in the living room, (he literally "bounces" around inside the house in the winter time) and turned to get away from Weazy. He landed right next to me (on the computer) and I saw him bash his lower lip and teeth on the end of the rocking horse. He held his lip for second and then looked worried as he said to me, "Am I bleeding???" and as he said the word "bleeding", the "B" made him splatter blood all over my face and shirt. Yes, you are bleeding, son! We grabbed a wet towel to stop the bleeding and I pulled his crooked front tooth forward to get it back in it's rightful place (not knowing that that was the right thing to do). He stopped crying when he stopped bleeding but I thought that we might have to go to the ER and get him some stitches (it was a REALLY deep gash on his lower lip that I won't gross you out with pictures of).
Here is the poor horsey after Niklaus attacked it with his tooth and lip:
Luckily, I have this cousin who was going to come over anyway who happens to work in the dental office where we had our Monday appt.! She called the dentist and she said that they probably wouldn't bother to stitch it and gave us some good instructions so we left it at that.
It was a lesson on "the right thing". You know what I mean? What is the right thing to do in this case? It's not simple. Some people would just automatically think, "Well, DUH! Take him to the ER then they can tell you if he needs stitches or not!" But lets think about that. If I brought him to the ER, we would sit there for no less than THREE HOURS while we fill out paper work (at 8pm, it would get ugly really fast with a 4 year old!) and then, in the end, they might tell us, "I'm sorry, we don't do anything for lips. We just let them heal themselves." OR they would say, "Okay, lets sedate him, hold him down and put very teeny stitches in his lip in the hopes that MAYBE this would lessen any scarring." Imagine THAT horrible scene? So, in the end, we just went to the dentist on Monday and the doctor said that his tooth wasn't broken, his lip was healing well, and to look for infection. Other than that, he should be just fine. I'm glad I had sensible people around that night to curb my mom-reaction of "holy-moly that thing looks hideous! Let's bring him to the ER this INSTANT!" because it wasn't something I could fix really fast.
So, when Niklaus sat down in the chair to get (a very gentle) cleaning, he pointed to the door, and gave me a meaningful look as a way of telling me that I needed to leave (he likes to be a big boy and do this on his own!). I sneaked behind the wall to hear what he might say to the hygienist without me in the room.
Nicole: So, you have a new baby at your house (she saw my huge belly)?
Niklaus: Yeah, it's Thomas.
Nicole: Oh, his name is Thomas?
Niklaus: Yeah, but he's not "out", yet!
Another thing he said when I had gone to check on the other kids was:
Nicole: So, which school do your brothers and sisters go to?
Niklaus: None of them.
Nicole: Oh! Do they homeschool?
Niklaus: Yeah, I teach them.
Nicole: You DO? Does your mom help?
Niklaus: Yeah, she helps.
