The other night I was talking to my mom on the phone. We had just returned from the CEEMed (Central and Eastern Europe and Mediterranean) Regional Conference in Bulgaria and she wanted to know how it went. After handing the phone to Gavin, I heard Dawson fall in the hallway and let out a wail. I've gotten pretty good at determining which ones are serious and which ones are more for sympathy sake, so I knew this one was toward the "true pain" end. I picked him up, comforted him, then asked him what happened. He explained that he slipped and hit his nose.
As I looked at his nose, I said, "Oh no." (big mistake) Blood was starting to ooze from one side.
Dawson replied with, "Is my nose broke?"
I had to chuckle, because I knew that his idea of "broke" probably gave him a mental image that is far worse than what an actual broken nose would look like. Thankfully it's not "broke", but it did warrant some extra cuddle time before bed to make sure all was well again.
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