Today, I closed my kid's finger in a door. Completely.
He cried--a lot. For the first 45 minutes, it was mostly screaming. You'd think that would be the worst part. It isnt.
Once the initial screaming subsided, he went into a routine. Roughly five minutes of "owww, owww, owww" in a baby voice, followed by more screaming, followed by five more minutes of "owww, owww, owww," for roughly another hour.
Then, when he finally calms down, you take a look at the door you closed, completely, with his finger and see where the wood is dented, and a spot of blood from his finger tip. Yeah, asshole, that's where the flesh came right off of his skin. No, I wasn't drinking. Apparently I'm just a clumsy asshole.
The only question left is, which is worse? Knowing he is probably too young to realize you were responsible, but could, or just knowing you are responsible?
It's virtually impossible to break an infant's bone, but I gave it the old college try. It stripped off one layer of skin, bruised, and swelled up nicely. I took a little comfort in seeing him bend it repeatedly over the hour of "owww, owww, owww's."
Someone do me a favor and issue me a donkey-punch.
2 hours ago