We were out to more doctors yesterday. We went to Lindsay's ENT for a follow-up to make sure the bump on her neck is nothing. It swells when she's upset and has a strange enough look to it that the Ped recommended going back to the ENT. It's nothing. He said she has no fat right where the problem is, and there's probably a superficial atery that is suppling the blood that makes it swell and look bad when she's upset. Thank goodness.

Then we were going to go right to the dentist, for a routine cleaning and check up for Jack and Lindsay. We made it as far as the parking lot. I got out of the van to get the kids out. When I opened the back door, Jack had climbed over the back seat. He had fallen fast and hard. Because suddenly he was right in front of me on the floor, bleeding. He had hit his head on the 25# weight that we'd placed on the base of our pencil tree to keep it from getting knocked over. It just happened to be in the back of the van. It cracked his head open, so we drove across the street to the ER. An hour later he had stitches and Jared was relieved to be going home. He didn't much care for the scrutiny they place you under when you come in with an injured child. The case worker, the police man, the repeating what happened 6 or more times. I was in the van waiting for them with the girls, because Ruby needed to eat. It didn't help Jared's comfort level that every question directed at Jack, he only answered, "I don't know"... What's your name, did someone hit you, did you fall; And the like. Any way, I'd post a picture of the stiches, but he's not that willing. Grrrrr. I wish I knew why we're so attracted to the medical world. I'd prevent it if I could.