I picked him up from daycare. He had no less than 3 bandages on his legs.
One super big one on his knee.
This, of course, meant an incident report. I dutifully read and signed. Agreeing that the staff had explained it all to me - what happened, how they addressed the problem (treated him), how they had taken measures to avoid it happening again in future.
He's a little boy.
He was having a great time playing with his friends.
He tripped and slipped and fell.
He scraped up his legs.
Did he cry? Apparently a tiny bit, from the shock of the fall and the initial pain. But then they fixed him up and sent him off again.
And he was fine.
When I was his age I cried from the Mercurochrome that was put on my many wounds. Ouch that stuff stung! Treatment was worse than the injury.
My guy? He's a kid. He plays, he gets hurt, he learns. Or not. But that's part of being a kid.
This is what little boy legs should look like after a big summer day of fun:
Evidence of a day well-played