A Pool of Crimson

I was holding the baby, watching the White Sox the other night. Both older boys were asleep for the night. BigBrother had just broken his fever the day before. I heard someone messing around in the bathroom. It was too late to be a 'Daddy I need a drink' 'Daddy I have to go potty' or 'Daddy I heard a sound' excuses to come out of their room.

It was BigBrother. He was blowing his nose. "Daddy, I have a bloody nose." So I went up, closely followed by DearWife, who was working in the office.

At first I thought, ok, no big deal:

1. Get toilet paper\kleenex
2. Hold his nose together
3. Wait till it stops
4. go back to bed

But that's not what happened. He was bleeding all over the place. I mean to the point where I thought this was a scene from a Quentin Tarantino homage to kung fu movies. DearWife kept telling him to blow his nose, which would inevitably end up with blood spattering on the floor, the sink, the bath tub, his face. I thought about saying "maybe it's not a good idea to blow all that blood out of his nose" but thought better of it. I figured my main job in this was to keep the baby quiet.

Once we (and be we I mean DearWife) got the bleeding stopped, we (and by we I mean DearWife) changed his sheets and his pillow cover, which were blood soaked.

BigBrother was calm. He's had bloody noses before, and we didn't make it a big deal. After cleaning up the bathroom (I recall a similar scene playing out in Pulp Fiction) DearWife googled Bloody noses.

And like all things with kids - it's usually not a problem. As DearWife said "it's just that the kids membranes are thinner. Unless it's a sign of LEUKEMIA."

So that's another call to the doctor for next week.