Don't Look if You Hate Gore, But if You LOVE it......

48 hours post surgery

Last week, when Cub Sweetheart was still in the hospital with his brand new knee, our son stopped in to say hello during his lunch hour; he brought along his sub sandwich and chips. As he sat down to eat his lunch, the nurse came into the room to check on CS and see if he could be released to go home. In the process, she accidentally nicked his bandage and it left a teensy, tiny little hole.

She told us she'd prefer to be cautious and change the dressing before we left the hospital; since he could shower with this bandage, it might allow germs to get in right at the incision, which wouldn't be too slick.

So off came the bandage and we all got to behold his very impressive incision. I stood there looking at it, a bit horrified. I seem to remember making a comment that he would have a scar that looked like a mix of a zipper and Frankenstein's forehead.

Our son, who was in the middle of chewing up his mouthful of food, immediately said, 'wait a minute, I want to take a picture.'

I thought, boys! They just love gore.

I watched as his smile quickly crept to the edges of his face.

He sat down with his phone, typed a bit, all the while clearly very pleased with himself.

What? What's so amusing?

"I sent the photo to my sisters with a little note, 'have a nice lunch.'"

Don't you love that some things never change? Sometimes you have a hard time remembering them playing with hot wheels, and digging in the sandbox, but once in awhile you get a moment when they're a twelve year old gangly boy with a smudged face and hair sticking straight out in all directions, and a face that is all smiles.