Lessons in Gravity, or, Exciting Times at Preschool
Disclaimer: blood.
SOooo, the kids decide to build a tower on playground today using milk crates of the plastic variety. We (the adults) help by putting up the last crate and putting a ball on top. Then they, the kids, but up warning cones around it so "no one knocks into it and gets hurt." Minutes later, coworker H. observes child (lets call him "curious") poking at said tower. H. runs to the tower and calls "curious!". "Curious" smiles and pokes tower again. In slow motion (literally) the tower begins to lean, it begins to tumble..."Curious" runs to the downward side, stares up with big grin at falling milk crates, and (belatedly) starts to run away. INTO THE FALL ZONE! H. literally throws herself in between the crumbling tower and the child, catching all but one (of course!) of the crates. The top crate flies over her head, tumbles through the air, and hits "Curious" on the head. ("Curious" didn't even throw up arms to protect said head.) Meanwhile, the shinning co-op teachers who are supposed to be our examples for everything (GRRR...) are in the P-Patch, and the cool one looks over, sees the tower fall and laughs, giving me a thumbs up and yells "nice one, guys" then, we both see the blood gushing from "curious" as H. yells "ANNA! ER BLUETET!" Then Dave says shit and I say, "well, take him inside."
Except then I see that he's REALLY REALLY bleeding, and H. isn't so good with blood. And before I can really think about what I'm doing, I've pressed the only thing I've got over his gushing head wound...my hand.
Fuck.
Well, what have I got? My t-shirt. Do I strip to bandage this kid's head? No. I decide he's well enough to walk, and I calmly walk him to the classroom, where I lay him down. Our intern has beat me there and has towel and ice pack ready, and we trade off. I scrub scrub scrub, put on gloves, grab more towels, and return to my victim. Intern proceeds to clean up the PUDDLES of blood on the floor and then returns to playground. H. calls 911, and the parents, who we can't (of course!) get a hold of.
Meanwhile, "curious" has stopped crying, is talking, can focus, isn't swelling and the bleeding has stopped. I peek under the gauze and almost pass out. Good thing I'm kneeling already, because there is a giant goose egg on his head and a 2 inch cut and I can see inside the layers of skin.
I tell "curious" he's got a little cut and a bump shaped like an egg. I tell Henrica with my eyes to tell the firemen to get here quick.
They come, check him out, bandage him a bit, and we're just about to get in the ambulance (wheee!) when his mom (panicked and kinda bitchy) arrives. She decides to drive him to the hospital herself. Granted, he's got a mummy bandage on his head and his clothes are COVERED in blood, but he's walking, talking, laughing, and making sense. He's gonna need stitches, but he'll be okay.
So then I cleaned up a whole lot of blood, filled out a whole lot of incident reports, and calmed H., who is worried about getting "crap" from the parents and about possible law suits.
Hopefully he's learned his lesson about gravity.
Good thing of the day: no blood on my clothes.
bad thing of the day: I never got to eat lunch, AND, I didn't get to ride in the ambulance.
Kids to the hospital yearly count: 2!
Trips in the ambulance: 1 (but not for me.)
Emergency Meds administered: 1
clothes covered in blood: 1 (but not mine.)
Doing alright.
SOooo, the kids decide to build a tower on playground today using milk crates of the plastic variety. We (the adults) help by putting up the last crate and putting a ball on top. Then they, the kids, but up warning cones around it so "no one knocks into it and gets hurt." Minutes later, coworker H. observes child (lets call him "curious") poking at said tower. H. runs to the tower and calls "curious!". "Curious" smiles and pokes tower again. In slow motion (literally) the tower begins to lean, it begins to tumble..."Curious" runs to the downward side, stares up with big grin at falling milk crates, and (belatedly) starts to run away. INTO THE FALL ZONE! H. literally throws herself in between the crumbling tower and the child, catching all but one (of course!) of the crates. The top crate flies over her head, tumbles through the air, and hits "Curious" on the head. ("Curious" didn't even throw up arms to protect said head.) Meanwhile, the shinning co-op teachers who are supposed to be our examples for everything (GRRR...) are in the P-Patch, and the cool one looks over, sees the tower fall and laughs, giving me a thumbs up and yells "nice one, guys" then, we both see the blood gushing from "curious" as H. yells "ANNA! ER BLUETET!" Then Dave says shit and I say, "well, take him inside."
Except then I see that he's REALLY REALLY bleeding, and H. isn't so good with blood. And before I can really think about what I'm doing, I've pressed the only thing I've got over his gushing head wound...my hand.
Fuck.
Well, what have I got? My t-shirt. Do I strip to bandage this kid's head? No. I decide he's well enough to walk, and I calmly walk him to the classroom, where I lay him down. Our intern has beat me there and has towel and ice pack ready, and we trade off. I scrub scrub scrub, put on gloves, grab more towels, and return to my victim. Intern proceeds to clean up the PUDDLES of blood on the floor and then returns to playground. H. calls 911, and the parents, who we can't (of course!) get a hold of.
Meanwhile, "curious" has stopped crying, is talking, can focus, isn't swelling and the bleeding has stopped. I peek under the gauze and almost pass out. Good thing I'm kneeling already, because there is a giant goose egg on his head and a 2 inch cut and I can see inside the layers of skin.
I tell "curious" he's got a little cut and a bump shaped like an egg. I tell Henrica with my eyes to tell the firemen to get here quick.
They come, check him out, bandage him a bit, and we're just about to get in the ambulance (wheee!) when his mom (panicked and kinda bitchy) arrives. She decides to drive him to the hospital herself. Granted, he's got a mummy bandage on his head and his clothes are COVERED in blood, but he's walking, talking, laughing, and making sense. He's gonna need stitches, but he'll be okay.
So then I cleaned up a whole lot of blood, filled out a whole lot of incident reports, and calmed H., who is worried about getting "crap" from the parents and about possible law suits.
Hopefully he's learned his lesson about gravity.
Good thing of the day: no blood on my clothes.
bad thing of the day: I never got to eat lunch, AND, I didn't get to ride in the ambulance.
Kids to the hospital yearly count: 2!
Trips in the ambulance: 1 (but not for me.)
Emergency Meds administered: 1
clothes covered in blood: 1 (but not mine.)
Doing alright.