When I tell the kids it's time to leave the park/library/pool/wherever we happen to be, maybe next time they'll listen. And maybe I won't say "OK, just a few more minutes."
Because invariably, if I say "OK, just a few more minutes" one of them will take that time to cause harm to someone or something, usually themselves. I'm not saying intentionally, but it will happen. Today, it was Jonathon's turn.
We decided to stop at the playground right behind our apartment building on our way back from Barnes & Noble (where I didn't buy -anything- today! Go me!). A group of daycare kids was there, playing with bubbles, balls and shovels whenever they weren't on the playground equipment. My boys asked to play too and moved from kicking the soccer ball to tossing a football. It was lunchtime but I said that fateful phrase "OK, just a few more minutes." The football promptly rolled under the bench where Jonathon retrieved it and misjudged the the distance to back of the bench.
Crack went his head.
OK, this sort of thing happens all the time and in order not to freak out the kids, we've always been nonchalant about it, especially if they don't get upset. We all know that kids feed off our reactions. So, he cried a bit from whacking his head and I reassured him all was well. He was heading back to his game when one of the daycare workers took a look at his head and freaked.
Yup, blood gushing. Head wounds always gush more than you'd expect, but she went a bit overboard. The other caregiver came over and offered a wipe to get the blood. His hair was getting matted and the presence of a bloody rag did more to concern Jonathon than anything else, so we discussed whether he would need stitches before we made the short trek home. At home he patiently allowed me to wash his head and the wound itself was only about 1/2 centimeter long, though it was open. Honestly, it could probably have taken a stitch or two, but it's on the top and back of his head, covered by hair. It won't be noticeable once it's healed and it wasn't bothering him at all. Not once did he say it hurt, even before the Motrin kicked in. He had a snack, watched some TV, played with his brother, took a bath and didn't say once he had an ache.
So, all is well, and he'll be fine. But one of these days I'll learn to not say that phrase and just go home while everyone is still in one piece.