The boys were outside playing. Matthew came to get me stating that Garrett was hurt and crying. I went out to investigate. Sure enough, there the oldest was, crying and holding his head, carrying two soft(ish) swords. He'd been in a dual with a much bigger boy from across the street. The bigger boy had hit him square across the head. A large bump was protruding from the side of his forehead. I brought him in, got him ice, and put him on my bed.
Not ten minutes later, Matthew was in the playroom cleaning up. Suddenly I heard a loud bump and then an instant and ear piercing scream. I ran to him. He'd somehow managed to run straight into the doorknob. A bump to rival his brother's was already sticking out from his head. "Garrett," I said, "Quick, give me that bag of ice."
"But it's on my head," the older brother protested.
"I know, but it's been there for awhile, let me put it on Matthew's."
There I sat with both of the Bump Brothers. Two goose eggs separated by minutes.
As wounds often do, Matthew's sent him into a downward spiral stopped only by the sweet bliss of sleep. His first day of school is tomorrow so I cut his nails after I'd finished brushing his teeth. For some reason that I'll never quite understand, he became attached to one of his big toe nails. He insisted he was going to keep it. I know that as a mom I'm not supposed to be sweating the small stuff but I have to draw the line somewhere. Storing old, dirty toe nails is just not going to happen. I threw it away.
He erupted into wails and sobs that sounded like he'd hit his head on the doorknob again. Except, no. This was over a toe nail. I told him to go get in bed. Wracking grief consumed him. "Hey, calm down, you're gonna waste all the tears in your little head," Garrett scolded him. I would have told him to leave the parenting to me but I was too busy laughing.
"BUT IT WAS MY BEST FRIEND. I LOVE THAT TOE NAIL SO MUCH. I'LL NEVER LOVE ANOTHER TOE NAIL AS MUCH AS I LOVE THAT ONE! I HAVE TO HAVE IT BACK!"
All I could do was smile. Because sometimes being a mom is all fun and games and sweetness and light. And sometimes it's a pair of matching head lumps and a dirty toe nail that is, apparently, a four-year-old's best friend.