"...the tooth...the tooth..."

Rowan had her first major bloody accident last night. We're at a local eatery that was low on high chairs so Rowan ended up sitting with us at a booth. Well, sitting is a relative term. Cheryl was sitting, I was sitting, Rowan was climbing. No booster, no chair. She had to stand in order to reach the table to eat. After a few minutes of her coating the vinyl with cottage cheese and peaches, the slick surface caused her to slip and plant her little baby mouth right on the edge of the table. It was horrible. I've never seen a baby crying with a mouth full of blood and I never want to again.

We rushed to bathroom (both of us, ladies room, convention be damned) and proceded to swab her mouth with wet paper towels to see how bad the damage was. No lost teeth, no loose teeth, no major gum damage. We still went to the emergency room, then left after about 45 minutes of sitting there. It boiled down to a split lip on the inside that no one could have done much about anyway, but the desire is to do a head x-ray to make sure nothing is chipped, cracked or fractured.




It's gut wrenching to watch a almost-toddler humbled like that. It really makes you want to hold them forever, lock them in a bubble and not let the world ever EVER touch them. The proprieters of the restaurant we're all talking about giving us a free dinner, seeing if we needed anything, you know, basic CTA so we don't sue. All I wanted to do was remove myself from the situation. The child was already hurt, there's nothing they could do to fix it short of paying for her years of therapy that will undoubtedly result. She'll never be able to eat at a salad bar again, total fear of vegetables, not to mention booth seats. Cheryl turned into, as she called it, The Momma Lion. Even I was fair game when her baby was injured. Teeth were bared, the owners were lucky she was already buckled in or there would have been more than Rowan plasma spilled that day. Not being the conflict seeker that I am, I wanted to get my family away from there as fast as possible. Cheryl asked how I can not be mad at them for not having enough chairs. I am mad at them, incensed even. They should have a high chair for every table in there. If not, say "we don't have a high chair, would you like to wait?"


To be honest, I don't know why I didn't get as animated as society would have allowed. I suppose I'm a coward, I just don't want to be in a fight. When the owner and the staff approached our car as we were leaving, I could feel the blood boil in my ears and all I could think to do was leave before I started punching people. They caused my child pain by their ineptitude and they deserved to feel the same pain. A good bloodied set of teeth oughta do it.

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