Notice: If you are queasy, don't read on.
I am just grateful I was the one that saw it. I was serving Elsie breakfast when Ian came stumbling in the kitchen, hair on end, eyes cracked open. I gathered him up for a warm snuggle and kissed his cheek, noticed it tasted strange and then took a good look at him.
His cheek was speckled with red dots. And then I noticed his hand. It was dark red and covered with dried blood.
*gag*
"Did you have a bloody nose last night?"
"I dunno."
We go to the bathroom and wash his hands and face. I check his bed and his pillow and sheets are splattered with wine colored spots. This was an epic nosebleed. I strip the bed and throw it in the washer. We head off to breakfast and I actually thought to myself "That wasn't SO bad." You see, I have a nephew who has set new standards in the area of nightly nosebleeds. So I have seen photos of much, much worse.
We finish breakfast, start school and the babies run off to play.
I am stripping all the beds (if I have to wash one I might as well wash them all) when I hear Lillie holler "GROSS!" Ian is standing in the living room when I walk in. He smiles at me and it looks like he has a mouth full of rotten teeth. I instantly assume another bleeder, this time from the mouth.
Oh no. No such luck.
It was dried blood caked all over his teeth.
*gag*
*gag*
*gag*
I had to get my fingernails and *gag* scrape the blood off of his teeth because his toothbrush couldn't remove it. Who knows how much of it he swallowed during the night.
Motherhood is not for the faint of heart. There are no other people on the planet for whom I would scrape dried, gooey, stretchy strands of blood off of their teeth. If you are not my child, you can just take care of it yourself.
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