Never Buy New

We've needed a new car for some time now. We were thinking about getting a new one when we were pregnant, until it occurred to us the foolishness of getting a fresh shiny new car just before embarking on a new life of Cheerios and spit-up and sticky peanut-butter fingers etc. One poor decision on my part to give Ellis Strawberry Quik on a road trip (yes, I did it) and it's all over for that new car smell. That's one thing I love about our Jetta. It is so cosmetically imperfect, stains and scratches

mean nothing. And when we do buy, I doubt we'll buy new, for that very reason.

However, you don't have that luxury when it comes to your child's face. You get this perfect beautiful little human, and hard as you may try, you can't keep them fresh from the factory. I've gotten used to the knee scrapes (ever present) and he did get a little puncture wound on his lip from a sharp corner of our coffee table a few weeks ago (which looked unpleasantly and unfortunately exactly like a cold sore), but nothing prepared me for the epic chin-splitting episode we experienced on Monday.

I had a meeting in Seattle, and Erik and Adeline were in town and agreed to come to Seattle with me and play in the park with Ellis until my meeting was over. Once finished, I joined them at the park and watched how carefully Ellis was walking in circles, balancing on the cement curb that bordered a sandbox with a shiny chrome dome slide type thing. Adeline was there, holding his hand. He was very focused. "He's done that about twenty times," Erik said. As Ellis approached me, I swung him up into my arms for a hug, but he clearly wanted back down to continue his new obsession. THE MINUTE I set him down, he fell smack on his face, audibly hitting the cement curb, scraping open his knees and splitting open his chin.

Blood everywhere.

Adeline had the smart idea to run over to some Park Maintenance guys to see if they had a First Aid kit (They did, and told her they had just put it in the truck that morning!!! There's Ellis's guardian angel at work again!). Erik fixed his little godson up while I held him and sang the Itsy Bitsy Spider (he'll probably hear that song in his nightmares hereafter--good thing I chose one that's already kind of creepy). We determined ultimately that he didn't need stitches, though I wasn't totally sure. I could tell that it wasn't life-threatening, and I didn't want to traumatize him further with a trip to the ER. One thing I am sure of is that he will have a pretty big scar on his chin. Scars are cool right? Look at Scarface? Oh, wait. Bad example.

So, I guess I have to get used to it. I can't keep him a little pristine perfect baby boy forever, but I'll do by best to protect him. And I promise not to shave his hair into a mohawk or give him a rat-tail. What more can I do.