Two years ago, Young M joined the ranks of the scarred for life when his forehead made an energetic acquaintance with a brick hearth. A few months ago, Young T split his eyebrow on the floor. But until yesterday, Young A had escaped with an imperceptible scar under his lip. But Young A has never been one to do things imperceptibly.
Yesterday he fell off a four foot retaining wall and hit his head on the concrete. The rim of his glasses sliced his head open. When I asked the surgeon (The ER doctor declined the honor of stitching him up.) how many stitches he got, I was told he wasn't sure. Maybe 20? It takes quite a few to sew up an almost two inch gash. Since all of the boys now belong to the Forehead Scar club, I'm hoping we are done. I'd rather not be the mom of the My Scar is Bigger than Yours club.