When Mom and Dad are watching the other kids so you and your spouse can take the new baby to the doctor and then Mom calls to ask if you’re on your way home, you don’t really assume the worst.  Then she says,

“Your son needs you.” 

Evidently, Philip went over the handle bars of bike and smacked his face on the sidewalk.  He had two loose teeth.  Jac and I both felt slightly nauseous.  We dreaded the thought of having to look at it. 

The best part of the story was that he fell and immediately put his hand to his mouth.  When he pulled it away it was full of blood.  Most kids would have freaked out at the sight.  But Philip?  The kid who is petrified to have his wounds cleaned?  No, he took one look at the blood and said,

“It’s okay!! It’s okay!!  I’m good!!  No!  I’m GOOD!!”

No buddy.  You’re not.

If you’ll recall, this is not the first time his face has looked like this.  Or that his teeth have been damaged.  *Sigh.*  It really does make me sick.

The poor kiddo was convinced that he couldn’t eat anything and then valiantly ate a hue piece of pizza for supper.  Cut up into little tiny pieces, of course.  And he was pretty proud of his “Loose tooth” and kept announcing it to everyone. 

While we ate dinner, Max was being difficult and demanded some water.  When he was told he’d have to wait, he burst into tears (overly tired from the co-op field trip) and stormed to his room howling.  He passed by Philip who was coming out of the bathroom and we heard Philip say,

“What’s wrong, Max?  Do you have a loose tooth, too?”

That kid.  What he lacks in coordination and grace, he makes up for in compassion and heart. That brins me comfort even if it doesn’t really cover the E.R. visits or dentist bills.