Is there a CSI in the house?

When we got home from the airport Saturday night, I could not wait to see the boys. Nick was still bumming because he did not get to go with me, but I knew he'd be glad to see me.

Well, we got home, opened the door and Michael is holding a bloody cup. Eew! "What is going on?" I asked. "My tooth is loose", he replied. Well, the tooth was beyond loose, it was holding on by a thread and bleeding like wild but Michael refused to give it that final yank. "Why the cup?" I asked. "So that I can spit out all the blood." I guess there was decent logic in it but it was still disgusting. I went in to use the bathroom and it seriously looked like a crime scene. There was blood EVERYWHERE. I was ready to let Gil Grissom in with his flashlight. Did anyone think to wipe any of it up? No. Clearly, getting the boy to spit in the cup was easier than cleaning up the mess. I have no stomach for this sort of thing so thankfully Frank went in and took care of it.

After two hours of coaxing and pleading, the boy would not give the tooth up. We convinced him to go to sleep. "What if I bleed in the bed?" "You won't". "What if I swallow my tooth?" "Nick swallowed his when he was your age." "What if..." JUST GO TO BED ALREADY! I'm barely home and I've had to look at more blood than a chainsaw massacre movie! For the love of it, go to bed!

My mother of the year award is being polished as we speak.