you are not four months old and you are rapidly growing. So are your fingernails and toenails.
Last week I once again faced the awkward and terrifying challenge of cutting your tiny, see-through, fragile fingernails. You were playing with my hair with one hand, and I was gripping the other, clipping one finger at a time, they are as thin as matchsticks, or so it seems to me. I was oh so careful not to do any damage to your buttery, delicate skin. Then I clipped your thumbnail, and there was blood.
A tiny bit. And you started crying.
I rang your dad at work and informed him that he needed to come home in a taxi immediately, because you were bleeding, probably needed stitches, and we had to go to hospital, and I wanted you to have a tetanus shot, who cares if the nail clippers weren't rusty.
He arrived 20 minutes later, sweating and panicked. He found me on our couch, holding you tightly against my chest. I was sobbing. You were laughing and giggling. Your dad was very pleased to find out that your blood loss amounted to a 2 dollar coin sized patch on a tissue.He also did a good job of pretending that he didn't mind being married to a crazy person.
He returned to work soon after he reassured me that the injury most likely did not require an emergency room visit. He said it reminded him of the time I rang the ambulance because you had heat rash.
Sheepishly, your loving mother.