I messed up Tuesday morning and slit my hand. As I pulled a bag from an
upper cabinet, my really sharp bread knife came with it. The result—six
stitches to close up a gap at the base of my pointer finger. I kept the
wound covered most of the day. When Tori got home, she noticed the
bandage right away. I told her what happened and let her look at it. She
was grossed out by the stitches and the dried blood, and she let me
know it. She is also fascinated by it, however, as she keeps asking for a
look at it. She says she wants to become a doctor, but I don’t know.