"Mommy, I'm bleeding!" Seth shrieked. I cringed. Seth was going through a fear-of-bleeding-to-death-from-every-little-cut phase; and active, little boys get lots of little cuts. "Let me see," I said. Timidly, he held out his finger to show a tiny cut. It wasn't really bleeding; the cut was just deep enough to bring the blood to the surface, but none was spilling out. I ruled out a trip to the emergency room. "Is it okay?" Seth anxiously asked. "It's fine," I said. "It's a little cut, and it's going to heal right up." "But it's bleeding!" Seth declared. "It's not bleeding," I ... Read the Post