If I could italicize the word job in the title, I bet you’d read that the way I was hearing it in my head. Dripping with sarcasm.
Good job, mom.
Yesterday after chapel we went to the illustrious food court for lunch and the bigs unloaded and headed toward the building. I stayed behind, getting Parker out of his seat.
I noticed a few of our fellow ChapelNexters also unloading their babies nearby and was about to walk toward the building when I shut the sliding van door… with Parker’s hand in it!
He screamed. I screamed! I know I sounded quite frantic as I asked for help, not necessarily from someone, maybe from God Himself as the DOOR WAS LOCKED!
Fortunately I always put my keys in the outside pocket of my purse so I was pretty fast to get them out and the door unlocked. My cries for help worked and Christy showed up and opened the van door just as I unlocked it.
Oh, my poor baby!
He cried so hard, and I just sat there and shook while holding him. I wanted to apologize profusely but that wasn’t going to make him feel better… though I did apologize a hundred times throughout the day. I just held him while my friends looked pitifully at the both of us… at him because his hand was really hurting and me, because they are moms and knew how horrible I felt.
He settled within about three minutes and we walked into the food court. He did great sitting him his high chair with our friends while I ordered food until we made eye contact and he melted into a puddle of tears. Matt went and consoled him again and then we ate lunch almost as if nothing had happened.
He is using that hand though favoring it noticeably. He can bend his fingers in a natural way so I don’t think anything’s broken. A doctor at the clinic looked at it and gave me the affirmation I needed. The fact that he was holding a toy in that hand and would not let the doctor take it from him was a good sign. He was squeezing that toy very tightly!
Oh, I felt so bad and that’s why I’m thinking sarcastic thoughts like, “Good job, mom.”