I smashed Jayla's fingers in a classroom door today when I was picking her up from school. It was really bad. I haven't seen her cry that hard in a very, very long time! I couldn't look at it because it really was that bad. Some of the teachers at her school helped us out with some ice and compression to stop the bleeding. I just hung in the background trying not to get emotional about it.
Because she is my child, on the way to the car, Jayla asked, "How am I going to eat with a hurt finger?". Those comments always make me love her more.
Anyway, I was trying to encourage her to move her fingers as I was getting the girls settled in the car. She kept telling me that she couldn't. I couldn't get her to distinguish between "can't" and "don't want to try".
So, because I was already incapable of even looking at the gruesome injury, I headed straight to a friend's house, which was about 30 seconds from the school. Luckily, they immediately took charge of the situation (because I was useless). They managed to calm down a hysterical Jayla, examine her injury to assess the damage, ice her down, and wrap the finger up after finally determining that it wasn't emergency room-worthy.
An hour later and Jayla is knocked out on the couch with her wrapped finger in a bag of ice. She's been a trooper considering the circumstances. But, she always has been...