Yesterday, as I was walking my students to lunch I saw Heath coming out of the nurse's office with an ice pack on his knee. I stopped and inquired about what had happened, and together he and the nurse informed me that Hunter had tackled him (in the cafeteria, which is definitely not allowed) and hit his knee. He had a bruise coming up on his knee, but it wasn't anything a little ice and time wouldn't heal. I walked him back to the cafeteria to join his class all the while lecturing him about "rough housing."
2 hours later, I was walking back to my classroom from making copies in the office when I saw Heath walking out of the nurse's office with the nurse, again. My initial reaction was that he has figured out how to get out of work and has found a new love for the nurse (like many of my 4th graders). However, upon closer inspection I found him with an ice pack to his forehead this time. The nurse explained to me that he and guess who.....Hunter had collided on the playground and he hit his head. I peaked under the ice pack and he did have a good size goose egg and a scratch. I guess my lecture about "rough housing" worked! Good grief, Charlie Brown.
Life just got crazier after that! Hunter (the one that never has to change his color) got a yellow face in Mrs. Davis' class for spitting on a girl. I have no words.
That evening when we went to church, Hunter was playing around with his cousins (after being repeatedly told not to run or play rough). He somehow fell and hit his head on some nails inside the building that were hiding under some carpet. Before church even started, we were in the bathroom cleaning up three pretty good gashes on the back of his head. I sat through church with blood all over my shirt.
Needless to say, at the end of the day I was done. I just want to wrap them in bubble wrap. This parenting thing is too hard sometimes.
