Little Boy Legs

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.

But really?

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