...and neither are emergency trips to a Mexican hospital.
As it turns out, even when you think you have grabbed every last little butter knife off of the table, odds are there is still going to be one sneaky little sucker lingering...hiding out...just waiting for cute little two-year-old fingers to grab a hold of it.
And when you have a surplus of adult supervision, as in this particular situation you tend to let your guard down.
And when your two year old is securely fashioned to a highchair out of harms way, odds are he really isn't.
So for me, I take a bow of shame as little boy James suffered the consequence.
The rest of the story is very heart breaking, extremely bloody and full of adrenaline. But I am happy to report that after a few tears and a couple of snips today all stitches have safely been removed, and all ten little fingers remain intact and appear to be good as new!
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