Is That Ketchup or Blood?

Apparently the Little One needs a lesson in the differences between ketchup and blood. Today has not been a good day for the Little One and red, gooey stuff.

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The Husband is gone for Reserves weekend, so I am a bit more relaxed about eating in the living room. Normally we eat together at the table, but sometimes when he is gone I don’t cook so the kids can eat wherever. But I do typically have one steadfast rule: If the Little One wants ketchup for her chicken dinos, she must be at a table, not on the couch and not on the carpet.

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Well the girls found these little folding lap-trays that Aunt Tami bought them a couple years ago. Sorry, Tami, I hate them. The legs don’t lock in place, so if you move the tray slightly, the whole thing collapses. That is why they have been hidden in the Harry Potter closet (the closet under the stairs). For whatever reason the Big One was climbing around in there today (no I didn’t put her in there, although I have been tempted a time or two).  She emerged with these damn trays.  I honestly thought I threw them away last time she found them. (Note to self throw them away tonight!!).

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So anyway, the girls wanted to use the trays and sit on the living room carpet to eat. My brain was not properly functioning when I gave the Little One ketchup on her plate. No sooner had the kid sat down to eat, than she bumped the tray.  One leg collapsed and her plate flipped over.  Gracie Lou was on the prowl, she nabbed a chicken dino before I even knew what happened.

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The Big One started freaking out because, “{Little One} got ketchup” on her chicken.  Seriously, there is a huge glob of ketchup on my carpet and she is having a cow because a speck of it landed on her chicken.

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I ignored the Big One and started to clean up the ketchup mess.  All the while yelling at the Little One, the dog, my sister and anyone else I could think of. (yes, one of my finer moments).

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I bust out the OxiClean and did what I could do for the carpet.  I went back into the kitchen to rinse out my rag and the Little One starts whimpering about what is all over her dress.  I walked back out to the living room and see that her hands are both covered in blood, as is one arm and the side of her dress.

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Again in a fine moment of calm, I started yelling at her again to just stop moving.  She was dancing around like a dog trying to catch its tail, because she thinks there is ketchup all over her dress.  I told her it was not ketchup, as I had just cleaned it all up from the carpet and there was none left on her plate.

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She argued with me that it was ketchup and put a finger in her mouth.  YUK! She quickly surmised that the substance on her finger was not ketchup and then started freaking out because she was “bweeding all over!”

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I still couldn’t figure out where the blood was coming from. This child falls on carpet from a standing still position and insists that she needs a Band-Aid even though there is no blood.  So the fact that she is covered in blood and didn’t notice it is a bit concerning to me.  I carried her into the bathroom to get her hands washed and find the source.  She is now sobbing because she needs a Band-Aid and some medicine, yet she cannot tell me where the blood came from.

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Then I finally looked at her face, her nose was the source.  She must have felt something on her face and used her hands to try to wipe it off, getting the blood all over herself in the process.  It stopped bleeding pretty quickly, so I don’t know if it’s the dry weather or if she picked it until it bled.  Either way, she did {hopefully} learn a valuable lesson in distinguishing between ketchup and blood.

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The whole time we were in the bathroom, the Big One was giving me a running commentary on the spots she was finding on the tile, “I found some blood! Or is that ketchup?” is what I kept hearing.  At least she was smart enough to not taste it.