Yesterday, I was in the kitchen making dinner.  Carina ran up and started whining about an invisible owie she had on her finger.  As I bent to examine her finger and ask her not to whine, Callen came around the corner from the hallway, carrying a jar of spaghetti sauce and chanting, “My toe, My toe, My toe!”  He wasn’t really panicked or upset.  Just had that urgent “I need to tell you something” sound in his voice.  He lifted his little foot up to me, and I saw that his toes were covered in blood.  There was a trail of blood on the floor behind him.  I gasped, grabbed him, and set him up on the counter.  He calmly handed me the jar of sauce, and I quickly figured out that he had gone into the pantry, taken a jar of Prego off of the bottom shelf, and dropped it on his foot.  While cleaning up the blood, I had to calm Carina, who was panicked with concern for her brother.  She started to cry, and Callen nearly started to cry, but I convinced Carina to pull it together, and when the blood was cleaned up, we figured out that he had basically smashed the top of his big toe.  He had to wear a “toe tent” bandage overnight (with socks on).  Today his toe looks much better.  Callen doesn’t want to wear a bandage and keeps knocking the wound open, but he still has never cried.  This is one tough kiddo!

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