For the past week, Kate has had four stitches in her knee. She got them after she fell on some rocks while we were on a walk (if you read my post from May 12, you'll understand). It wasn't a very deep cut, but since it was on her knee, the doctor wanted to stitch it up to keep it closed while it healed. The words "stitches", "hurts", "band-aid", and "doctor" have now become everyday words in her expanding vocabulary.
James took Kate to get her stitches out yesterday. The nurse taped the stitches to a tongue depressor and wrote Kate's name and the date on the back and gave it to James to keep. I am not a very sentimental person, and I never would have thought of keeping stitches! But, we have them (at least for now) in a keepsake box with other odds and ends. The nurse informed James that there is also a Stitches-Fairy who takes the stitches and leaves money in a Tooth-Fairy fashion, but they decided Kate was a little young for such a ploy. I wonder what genius, accident-prone kid (or parent of one) thought up that one.
I've always been sort of proud that I'm not one of those first-time mothers who freaks out about every little potential hazard my child goes near. But this incident made me think that maybe I don't freak out enough and I should be more protective (not that I was letting Kate run free on a bed of rocks - I was trying to stop her, but she thought it was a game...). I don't know. Parenting is hard. And I'm just beginning. Maybe she will learn from this like she learned not to push away from the table with her feet (When she's finished with a meal, she now says "bonk head" and rubs her head as she remembers falling backward in her chair). Life is full of tough lessons.