War Wounds

Davis got his worst school related injury yesterday.  He greets me after school, all excited that he's wearing a band-aid on his finger. 

Davis:  "Momma.  Look.  My band-aid has trucks on it."
Me:  "Cool.  What happened?"
Para-Pro:  "Him and some other boys were rough housing on the field."
Davis:  "Yeah.  Sean pushed Christian.  And Christian just fell on top of my finger."
Para-Pro:  "They were just playing."
Me:  (just in my head)  'And you slapped a band-aid over it?  A band-aid?  Really?  His finger is black and blue.  He can't bend it.  It's swollen to match my middle finger.  A band-aid?  Let's hope it's not BROKEN!  But I love that he was 'rough housing' with boys at school!  He's fitting in so well.  I wonder if he cried.  I'm not going to even ask.  I'll just assume he didn't.  Because if he did, that would kind of ruin this whole thing.  Why does she wear so much perfume?  It's hurting my nose.  Seriously, though, I hope his finger isn't broken....'   :)

This is what it shrunk down to by about 7 p.m. after ice...

Fast forward to therapy, in the lobby...

Davis and Reese were playing with the big school bus, as they do every Wednesday.  This super, duper wild, bouncing off the walls 8 year old comes blazing through the doors, as he does every Wednesday.  He hides behind one of the school bus walls, jumps out, pushes Reese down, and screams, "No baby!"  She looks up at me, with complete terror in her eyes and I tell him, "No pushing.  Ok?"  Meanwhile, Davis is just staring him down, pissed.  He starts shaking his head and I'm thinking he's about to lay down the law with this kid.  No.  Not what happened.  Davis, still shaking his head, says, "Her name.  Is Reese.  Not.  Baby."  He was more upset that he didn't call her by her name than he was about her being physically abused.  That's so Davis.  Gotta love him.