Splinter

We had a saga today with a splinter.  Compared to the very real sagas going on all around us today, this is nothing, but I don't have the energy to opine about the state of our world, so let's stick to the splinter here.

I got a voicemail from daycare this afternoon (it isn't an emergency, but please call) letting me know that Nicholas had gotten a splinter but that their policy is not to remove splinters.  But they had tweezers I could use if I wanted to come do it myself.  So since he is only 200 yards away from my office, I went down the hill to do my motherly duty.

But Nicholas was having nothing to do with it.  After 45 minutes of his crying and pulling his hand away whenever I touched it, despite every bribe I could think of, I gave up.  He went back to class a complete emotional mess and I went back to work.  And called my parents for advice because I remember them removing multiple splinters from my hands over the years.

When we got home I convinced him to let me ice it.  Then while Joe held him down, I used a sterilized needle to pull up the skin so I could grab the splinter with the tweezers.
And success!

Nicholas got a car bandaid and lots of praise for being brave (despite the fact that he really wasn't--Joe had to hold him down).  And he has been promised ice cream after dinner.

A couple minutes ago he commented that his hand didn't hurt anymore and then said, "Thank you, Mommy, for taking out my splinter.  You're a hero!"

These days are numbered, so I'll revel in it now.