Well that all changed today... today was a "HOLY (*$#*%#!!!" *adrenaline runs down and reality sets in* "That could have been bad, really bad!" moment.
(Let me just say, Wesley is fine, but hopefully has learned a lesson, although I hear the "common sense" part of the brain doesn't fully develop until a male is 26 years old. AND there isn't any pictures... sorry, I know you'll all be disappointed not to see all the blood splatter)
Wesley gets home from school with bouncy ball in hand asking if he can get a knife and cut out the "cool spider" that is inside. I tell him No and state that it would be too dangerous and don't give it a second thought
I'm in my bedroom having just put away the laundry and am in the process of cleaning up Calvin's missed the potty pee from the master bathroom's floor. Calvin comes running in mad that Wesley wont let him into the kid's bathroom. We have a rule that doors are not allowed to be locked. Once at the kid's bathroom door, I tell Wesley he needs to open the door and as the door opens I'm stopped mid "we don't lock doors" lecture by blood.... EVERYWHERE... Instantly I think it's a bloody nose because of the amount of blood, but simultaneously my eyes fall on a wad of bloody band aids and hear Wesley cry/yelling "I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" and realize it's much more.
Holding up his blood covered hand it took me a minute to locate the gash in his finger from middle knuckle to base knuckle as deep as a finger wound can be. Instinctively I turn to run to the kitchen to grab paper towels to wrap around the cut to put pressure on to stop the bleeding. Entering the kitchen I notice two things....more blood, again... everywhere.. all over the floor, all over the counter, all up the cupboards and a pair of scissors sitting on the counter beside a blood covered bouncy ball with a stupid spider in it!!
It all made sense, Wesley had used the scissors to try and cut the spider out of the ball, it obviously slipped off the stupid ball, but efforts where not wasted as it made contact with his skin, fearing he would be in trouble, he climbed up on the counter to get the band aids on the top shelf of the cupboard, then hid in the bathroom to try and take care of this laceration himself.
Wesley's whole body was involuntarily shaking while I cleaned and bandaged his finger, then opted to take a bit of recovery time, while snuggling alone in my bed.
The realization that my "No" no longer ends attempts of dangerous behavior, but postpones it, frankly scares the shit out of me!
*Again, sorry for no visuals with this post*