2nd Degree

Why is it that no matter how many times you tell a child NOT to do something, they have to do it? I realize that kids are "programmed" to not listen, and to push buttons. Any buttons. My buttons. And I have have three of the most button-pushing children on the face of the planet.

This week is apparently Gabriel's week for button-pushing. He's been having a banner summer for said pushing - and I've had about all that I can stand. He's enrolled in a Summer Rec program, and my guess is that he's learning all kinds of neat things from the older kids that are also enrolled. While he's always had a bit of an attitude problem (he is, after all, my son), his nastiness/rudeness/jerkiness has gotten worse in the last month. I realize that he's 4. And that he's probably bored. And he has me for a mother (attitudinal isn't even a proper word to describe me). All of those are good excuses, but something has to give at some point. Gabriel is also very "hand's on". He likes to touch everything. He has to know how things work, why things work. In that respect, he is very much his father's son. Jon's an engineer, and also very hand's on in his learning.

I digress. So, why is it that kids must do the exact opposite of what you tell them? I suppose that if someone figures out the answer to that they are going to be rich and famous - every parent will want access to that bit of knowledge.

Here's a perfect example of Gabriel's inability to listen. Jon took Gabey and Janna outside on Monday evening (Elliott was in time-out for peeing all over the bathroom). They rode bikes, played at the playground, and then came back to the yard so Jon could get ready to grill chicken for dinner. Every single time we are in the back yard we tell the kids to never, ever, ever, EVER touch the grill. (I bet you can already guess where this story is going.)

Jon put Janna in her hopper (exersaucer), and Gabriel was planted firmly in the sandbox. I heard Jon tell him to stay away from the grill. Jon commenced making fire (we have a charcoal grill), and everything was fine. He started cooking the chicken, and I once again heard him remind Gabriel that grills are hot. No touchy-touchy. I continued chatting on the phone with my Mom, and I was telling her how good Gabe was being. How well he was listening. And then I heard it. Jon's raised voice. Followed by shrieking. Uncontrollable, inconsolable shrieking. I told my Mom I was pretty sure that Gabriel had just touched the grill. And he had. With his entire right hand. Not just a finger, the entire hand. So in he came, face purple from hysterically crying. Nothing would soothe. Being the very smart Mom that I am, I knew how to "treat" a burn, so I held his hand under cool water, and then gave him a wet washcloth. From the few peeks he would allow me, I could see that the skin was blistering. I called his ped's office, and they advised me to take him to the ER.

The ER was pretty busy, so we had to wait our turn. Gabriel, being the attitudinal turd that he is, kept asking me when someone was going to come fix his hand. He was hungry, and he didn't need to stay there anymore. It was actually pretty funny to listen to his little boy voice telling the doctor that it was about time he got there. The doctor didn't mind being put in his place by a 4-year-old, either. Dr. F. popped the blisters (ewwwww), and wrapped Gabe's hand up but good.

As part of the discharge instructions, I had to follow up with the Burn Unit at Strong Hospital. While I knew it was necessary, it was still a giant pain in my ass. My kids nap. And of course the only time Gabey could be seen was at 1. Right at the beginning of nap-time. Thank goodness I have a very understanding hubby. He came home so the girls could sleep, and Gabe and I went into the city. Dr. L. was very nice, and we discussed treatment options. The burn is a superficial second degree wound, and no matter what anyone does, it will heal on its own. I realize this isn't a great picture, but you can see the burn covering his little hand. Nice, huh?

It has to be kept dry and clean, so Dr. L. re-wrapped it in a tougher, calamine lotion-soaked bandage that should, in theory, stay until next Monday. Gabriel was very pleased with the outcome. Not only does it look cool to him, but it also leaves a pink slick on everything he touches.

Today, Gabe says his hand only hurts a little bit. But he is starting to get annoyed with the bandages (which have to stay on his hands for at least 2 weeks). I'm starting to get annoyed with the bandages, too. They are, indeed, leaving a pink slick on everything he touches. And since he has discovered that he can milk this boo-boo for everything it's worth (he can no longer feed himself, pull up his pants, strap himself into his car seat, write his name), he's helpless. The reason I find his helplessness so annoying is that he's only helpless when he wants to be. He can play trains, swing, slide, fall down steps, wrestle his sister. Again, I realize it's the age. But I'm trying to take care of two smaller urchins - one of whom is basically helpless (have I mentioned lately that Janna is going to be 1 tomorrow???!!!) . I could use a break (i.e. Pull up your own damned pants. Even if it means that you have to put Gordon down.)!