A Small Scrape, Part Deux

Ok, here's the update.  Yesterday I called the school and spoke to the nurse's assistant that had called our home about Zilla when it first happened.  She said she really thought that it wasn't anything major and said, "I mean, did it even scab over?"  And I scoffed and authoritatively said, "ummm... duh! You should see him." She said how sorry she was but that he was "still as handsome as ever..." and that she would make a note in my chart to let me know that I can come up there and inspect any future injuries.  Was I rolling my eyes?  Well, I gave myself a headache.

I hung up and I wasn't feeling "over it" yet.  I decided to call the school today and request a meeting with the principal.  My husband was home for a local appointment of his own so I wanted him to come along with me.  Let's face it; we all know that I'm the ass-kicker around here.  But, there is something about showing a united front (and having this really big tall guy with you helps too) to get people nervous.

Here's why I was upset.

1.  Have you SEEN his face?  I understand kids get hurt.. I do.  They've been hurt several times RIGHT IN FRONT of me.  I get it.  That's not what I'm upset about.  I'm upset because they said, "small scratch and a little red" when clearly, this was much more than that. When I picked him up they said that they could only wash it with water.  It was a carpet burn... do you know how filthy carpets are?  Carpets that 5 year olds play on? ugh.. don't get me started. 

2.  I didn't know that they can't put anything on it.. no Neosporin or Bacitracin. Had I known this right away, I would have gone immediately and administered the illegal drug myself.

So, we arrive at the school and the secretary calls us to the conference room.  When we start to walk in I hesitated because I saw a lot of people in the room and assumed we were interrupting another meeting.  Not so.. they were there for us.  In attendance was the nurse, nurse helper monkey (sorry.. had to do it), principal, and vice principal.  As it turns out, when the principal got my call this morning about requesting a meeting the first thing he did was go to my son's classroom.  He asked the teacher about it and then said, "where is he?"  He said, "When I saw him turn around and look at me I knew RIGHT away why you were calling.  That looked bad."

There were a lot of nervous people in that room (my husband and I were not one of them) and they did a LOT of apologizing and hesitating.  As it turns out (and this is the sad part) they frequently have to call parents about children being hurt or sick at school and they get a lot of resistance.  They said that parents get angry if they have to pick up a child that is hurt--but they need to be hurt so badly that they have to go the hospital.  They said they were happy that we were attentive and concerned because it's a rare occurrence. 

We all left on good terms and I have a feeling that little Zilla will be fitted for a plastic bubble at the school very soon.