Amputee

The day before I left for Michigan, I did a horrible thing - I cut my kid's finger off.

I was trying to get a toy out of the box - some talking stuffed dog that we still haven't opened from Christmas. He wanted it and brought it to me to open. I got out the scissors and there was a split second as I clamped down on one of those zip-ties and Mase's little finger darted in between them when life went in slow motion.

And no, it wasn't a little fingernail cutting incident like I had when Mason was tiny. This wasn't a scratch. I'm telling you, I cut the tip of his finger off. Mason didn't cry, but there was tons of blood. I was upset and in shock and felt horrible, but Mase was a trooper as usual.




When he started to seem a little sad, I put a bandaid on, too. Instant smiles.



Poor baby...