That Time When He Broke the Glass Door & Nearly Got a Trip to Vegas

This past weekend was a rough one for Max, physically speaking.

He actually had a pretty good weekend, emotionally speaking. It's important for me to note that, because it really was a pretty mellow couple of days. Max wasn't trying to stir up trouble. Things just...happened.

We spent most of Friday outside, soaking up the sun and working in the yard. Part of the yard work involved moving a pile of bricks that was stacked right in the corner of the patio, just outside the back door. Max was in and out of the house all day long, and managed to avoid the bricks each time but one. He tripped over a single brick, barefoot, and got a cut right on the tip of his toe.

Ooof! Ouch!!

I did lots of scrubbing (and a quick pedicure!) on those dirty little summer feet, but there was just no good way to clean and wrap that wound! Have you ever tried to bandage a child's pinky toe? It doesn't really work.

After several failed attempts, I finally had a small turban of bandaids carefully fixed in place, and had Max sit and watched a movie to keep him quietly still.

After a bit, he came to me and pointed at his toe, saying, "Ouch!" The bandaids were off, and the entire flap of skin was gone. It made me wince to realize he had pulled it right off! I know it probably felt better that way, but I certainly didn't have the stomach to do that myself! (That's another of Max's quirks: his pain tolerance is quite high, but his tolerance for things like hangnails, jagged nails, and flaps of skin is quite low.)

So the next day was a little tricky because he was clearly more comfortable barefoot, but that left his feet quite vulnerable (and led to a few red polka-dotted trails around the house).

I tell you about the toe because we had been exclaiming over his injury all weekend ("What a way to start the summer!")...and also because his barefooted vulnerability became both extra-important and completely irrelevant on Sunday morning.

Sunday morning, Max was having a hard time starting his day. He wanted something, but couldn't tell us what, and wouldn't point or lead us to it or provide hints of any kind. He got increasingly frustrated, and so did my husband & I. We finally told the other kids to just take him outside and play, thinking the distraction, or change of scenery, or jumping on the trampoline would help center him.

He ran out the door after them, and in one last burst of anger, he BANGED the glass pane on the screen door really hard as he went out...and it shattered.

His hand went clear through the glass, and he kept right on going, flying barefoot down the step and right through the falling shards.

Was there silence? Was there screaming? I actually don't recall. I only remember the tinkling sound of all that shattering glass.

My husband got to him first, and whipped off Max's shirt (long-sleeved, thank goodness!) to survey the damage. His hand and forearm were already bleeding and there was one small piece of glass in the bottom of his foot, which he pulled out immediately. We couldn't tell right away how serious the cuts were, but there was a lot of blood and it certainly looked terrible.

My husband held Max's foot up in the air to slow the bleeding, and I held the shirt tightly around his arm. We yelled at the big kids with instructions to run around the house and unlock the front door, get paper towels, and CALL GRAMMY! (My mom is a retired nurse and lives minutes away; she is our own personal 911.)*

She arrived in record time and helped us assess the damage...which actually turned out to be surprisingly superficial! I thought for sure we would be heading to the E.R. for stitches, but there was no need.

My mom brought over an arsenal of medical supplies, and we washed and cleaned and medicated and bandaged his injuries. Max was a bit resistant, but once we told him the large pads and wraps were Grandpa's (left from his surgery incision care), then Max was into it. He kept saying "Pah-Ah" and "BIIIIIIG!" and pointing to his own back and nodding. He knew what they were for, and he loves to do anything just like grandpa!

Once Max was all cleaned up, we dressed him in long sleeves, long jeans, long socks, and soft shoes -- anything to add a little extra layer of protection for the rest of the day! He didn't want to wear shoes very long, but everything else stayed in place until bedtime despite the warm weather (which tells me he was hurting).

We were all a bit shaken by the event, and I still can't believe how incredibly lucky he was to avoid more serious injury. No deep cuts, no stitches needed, no arteries involved (Gah!!) -- nothing!

We aren't particularly lucky people. (In fact, my husband always says about me, "If it weren't for bad luck, you'd have no luck at all.")

Max, on the other hand, is gold. He has had so many close calls and unlikely saves in a variety of precarious situations.

Since starting this blog one year ago, I can point to incidents where he broke one window with a bat and another one with his hand, and only has a single small scar on his thumb as a result. (There was also the time when he very nearly ate a piece of glass in a situation where I did the breaking!) And in the 6 years prior to blogging, there were many other lucky breaks.

It's a wonder.

Once Max was safe, my husband & I were standing there, examining the mess and shaking our heads in amazement. After surveying the damage, he turned to me and said, "I think we should buy that kid a ticket to Vegas. All he needs is one quarter..."

Instead of buying that plane ticket, we opted to put a sizable chunk of money towards a brand new screen door. It's one with a permanent sturdy support bar across the middle, and tempered-glass SHATTERPROOF window panes. I think that's probably an even better way to play the odds. (Don't you?) After all, it's only the first week of summer.

*****

*Mom -- THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!