Twelve

Tomorrow is 12 years since this:

We celebrated with a trip to the ER a few days ago. Henry was sitting on the dining room table playing with his Legos, when Pharmie and I watched him lose his balance and slip off backwards. Shortly after, I Instagrammed this:

"The Elmo ice pack has never been so bloody. Waiting to see if Henry needs stitches.
He's totally fine, just a gash on the back of the head."

Here are a few more pics from the ER:

A waiting room pic for Mama. He was in good spirits.


After getting the wound cleaned out, and waiting for the numbing gel to kick in.
(Playing with this sweet toy on the wall.)


Numbing gel washed off, cleaned out even more, and ready for staples.


Stapled shut. The doc was quick - she gave me a look to imply "hold him," and she shot those in
his head in less than 20 seconds. Henry whined a lot, but he didn't cry. No tears.


A grape popsicle just before midnight to celebrate a successful ER visit.


A photo I Instagrammed early the next morning: "Back home after a long night. Five staples
in Henry's head. He was a TROOPER! (That's blood all around his collar -
the 2nd load of bloody laundry is in the wash right now.) Thanks HCMC!"

Henry had an ibuprofen that night, and then slept until 9:30 the next morning. He's had no pain meds since, and likes to show off his staples! Here's what they looked like 36 hours later:

Hopefully, we celebrate our actual anniversary with less drama. But I guess whatever happens happens. (Oh, and the doc gave me a staple remover so I can take the staples out myself sometime mid-next week. Watch my Instagram for possible photos of that disaster.)

The last few anniversaries have been a bit different than our first 7. Now, there's not time for movies, dates, and nice restaurants. There's less romance now, but way more love.

I love you, Hunnie!