Cleaning up the kitchen. The little guys are playing upstairs in their room. The oldest is in his room, disconnected from the world with headphones in his ears and Netflix in his line of sight. Papa bear is out in his workshop.
Then you hear it.
Thats not his normal “bitching/ whining” cry. Qube’s hurt.
I make it all the way up the stairs to his room before he’s able to let out the next wail.
Ok, he’s not hurt too bad. But its a legit cry, he’s holding his head and standing in his closet.
Rem’s got guilt on his face and backs away to his bed, stammering about what had happened.
Its ok, its ok, let me see your head.
Oh holy shit, its so hard not to scream when you see that nastiness on your baby’s head. It was a relief (its *always* a relief) to not see any blood. But I wasn’t prepared for a goose egg like that. Literally 8 seconds went by from the bang til I had him in my arms.
I took him to Papa Bear who just got him a bag of ice and set him on the couch with a blanket and a cartoon – cool, calm, and collected. The crying subsided.
I’m trying not to gag every time I look at it. I think seeing the baby get hurt hurts me the most.
Rem’s guilt was because I guess he burst open the closet door at the same moment that Qube was leaning in to open it. Kapow! That happens to them a lot actually. (Never quite this viciously.) They’re always rounding corners simultaneously. This time there just happened to be a door corner in the way too!
The oldest was oblivious to the whole thing.