My mother often told me I shouldn’t run with sharp objects in my hands.
Well a teaspoon isn’t exactly sharp, but I still had to have my nose sewn up after falling and hitting a chair with one end of the spoon and my nose with the other.
I’m just grateful I didn’t pop out and eye.
One more before I get out of here. Not mine. My brother’s, and a *cliché, at that:
He peed on the electric fence. (Which kept the horses in their place.)
He bled from his wee-wee for days. Poor blighter.
Somebody put a wooden platform about 10’ off the ground in an oak tree across the street from our house. There were wooden blocks nailed into the trunk to get up and down. I never got to go up there myself because Mom & Dad had declared the platform off-limits by the time I was old enough. Sometimes my siblings liked to jump off instead of climb down; one day one landed wrong and got knocked out.
Well, there are many incidents, but here are a few of the bigger ones:
When I was about six or seven I was supposed to be taking a nap one afternoon. Well, apparently I didn’t really want to. My younger sister and I shared a bunk bed, with me on top. I was goofing off and the “guard-rail” on the edge of the bunk came loose. I rolled over to grab it and rolled right off the bed… the five foot high bed. I landed right on top of a Lite Brite[sup]TM[/sup], and another toy that I no longer remember the name of (also box-shaped, kind of like a Mr. Potato Head because you could use different plastic pieces to make faces). I ended up in the hospital for a week with a bruised spleen. They thought they might have to remove it, but they didn’t.
When I was in fourth grade I jumped off the top of the playground at school, landing in a crouch, with one leg in front and one leg underneath me. The knee of the leg in front connected with my mouth when my head snapped forwards, and I broke three out of four front teeth.
Not really childhood, but in grade 9 in phys. ed. class we were biking along a river valley path, and a boy in my class cut me off. I went over the handlebars and landed teeth first on the concrete (thank god I was wearing a helmet). I ended up with four broken teeth (top two front teeth, one lower and one canine) and two root canals. I’m gonna need to get crowns on them soon too.
Actually, it’s kind of funny that I have so much dental work, considering that I’ve never had a cavity. 
Oh, where to begin? Let’s just say Grace ain’t my middle name, and never has been.
The earliest injury for which I still bear scars is another tongue injury, and happened when I had just learned to walk. I was supposed to be napping, but decided to climb out of my crib. I slipped on the way out, and my chin connected with the railing and my four top teeth and two bottom teeth went all the way through my tongue. Blood everywhere. I still have sort of an open (healed, but not together) slice in my tongue, with a corresponding lump on the bottom where flesh was pushed through and healed there.
When I was five, my dad had been working hard to split firewood in the back yard. When he went back inside, I decided to be helpful and split some, too. The log I chose wouldn’t stand on end, so I layed it flat on the patio, fetched the axe, and swung it as hard as I could. The axe, probably not held straight to begin with, bounced off the wood and buried itself in my (bare) big toe. Very good thing that I wasn’t terribly strong at 5, because I only cut the toe to the bone, rather than off.
Learning to ride my bike, I coasted down the hill in front of our house, lost control, went onto the gravel shoulder and wiped out before sliding under the neighbor’s VW Bus and getting stuck there with my little bike. Gravel makes the worst scrapes, and I couldn’t even get out to get help. I lay there and screamed until Mom came and somehow dug me out.
And, playing on some equipment at recess in 5th grade, my friend pushed me off. I was caught totally by surprise and landed on my face after a 5-foot fall. Significantly broke one tooth and chipped three others noticably. I remember lying in the nurse’s office and spitting out what I thought was gravel, and found it was a piece of tooth.
Age: 10
Place: Back yard
Implement of Pain: Jarts (Lawn Darts)
Lil’ Miss, being ever so clever, decided rather than two small targets, why not make one BIG target?
Right in front of me.
FHWAP!!!
Went the Jart.
Into that soft spot between my big toe and “pointer” toe (what is that toe called, anyways?). Jart went ALLLL the way through my foot, pinning it to the lawn.
You know, removing it was cool. Geyser of Miss blood.
Mom passed out 
Awww…all I ever had was a broken arm. No interesting story, really. I consider myself lucky.
Note to all ten-year-olds: The blade of a Swiss Army knife is not effective as a screwdriver on one of those little wind-up toys, expecially not in a moving car, and definitely not on Christmas morning. Oh, that was not a good morning. I cut through almost all of the extensor tendon in the middle finger of my right hand. Getting steel thread stitches and your finger immobilized in a splint is not a good way to spend the first few hours of Christmas morning.
I learned that bottle rockets get really hot. I had been experimenting with using bottle rockets to power paper airplanes. That was kind of cool, but I wanted more!
The next order of business involved me deciding to measure the thrust of a bottle rocket (with the explosive end cut off) by holding it in my fingers. I ended up with several really nice blisters and a nifty life lesson!
On a side note, my little brother learned that a very effective way to determine whether an electric fence is on is to just reach out and grab it. He did this more than once, which I think really explains a lot.
finally i got my turn on the bike. the bike was red. i don’t like red and should have gone with “stay far away from the red bike” thought. it also had a banana seat.
i got the end of the street just fine. i turned to go back up the street and a car turned onto the street. so i decided to go on the pavement. i also should have gone with the first “don’t hop the curb” thought. i didn’t want my cuz to think i was a wimp who couldn’t hop a curb.
to use a whole bunch of vague euphemisms… the banana seat and i became VERY well aquainted. as soon i could find a way off of the banana seat, and the stars faded a bit, i managed to hand off the bike to my cuz, and limp home.
the bike never called me or sent flowers or chocolate. in fact i never saw the bike again. it took me a few years and the facts of life books to truly understand that day’s injury.
Ohhh I just remembered another (potentially fatal) childhood injury. I was only about four or five at the time, and I don’t really remember what happened, but I’ve been told the story about a bzillion times.
Apparently I wanted to know how electrical sockets work. So I stuck a bobby pin in the electrical socket. In the electrical socket in the bathroom.
Thank god it was the bathroom one. A normal electrical outlet might have killed me or done some serious damage. As it was, the bobby pin shorted out the special interrupt thingie (don’t remember what it’s called), and quickly cut of the power.
Everyone was wondering what had happened, and I was too freaked out to admit what happened (I was young and stupid, but not so stupid as to admit it).
They eventually figured out what happened because the shape of the bobby pin was burned into my fingers where I was holding it pinched between my thumb and index finger.
Needless to say, I’m a little wary of most things electrical now. Blame Pavlov I guess.
Did anyone else go “nyuck, nyuck, nyuck” while reading this thread?
When I was in single digits, I tripped and fell onto an old toilet in the backyard. I forget why it was there, but I wound up needing several stitches in my head, and still have a scar. Can still remember a paper towel being placed over my head as the doctor in the ER stitched it up.
Might explain a few things, eh?
hmmm, let’s see… I have not seen this one mentioned. I broke my arm while it was in the cast. Yes, let me take a bow, it took talent.
The original break was from a “rocekt ride” My older brother was laying on the ground with his feet in the air, I sat on his feet and he launched me into the sky. I landed with my arm behind me, elbow pointing straight up, and wrist pointing somewhere it should not have been. I had a full cast from my fingers to my armpit. Back in those days, casts were quite heavy. I was always off balance and running into things after that.
A few weeks later we were playing in the street. (hey, it’s what kids did), my brother was climbing dow the sewer drain to get a ball and I stood on the curb watching him. I leaned over for a better look and the weight of the cast tipped me over into the street. 6 weeks later at the doctor’s office, time for the cast to come off. Underneath, one very healed, very crooked arm.
I was in the cast most of the first grade getting that arm straightened out. It sucked.