It was bound to happen. 8:15 pm. Boys tucked in tight. A crash and a cry. You know the one. The hurt cry, the one where you run to your child. Blood running out of his mouth, down his face. I swoop him up and see the gash on his chin. He’s hysterical and can’t even tell me what happened. All I know is the cut is deep and we need stitches. I call James. What an amazing blessing to have a brother who is a pediatric ER doctor, who lives 15 minutes away, and who works at the neighborhood hospital. But, he’s not working tonight. He asked me to send a picture of the cut so he can see how bad it is. By now, Connor is calm and telling us what happened. “I jumped over my train track and smashed into my bunkbed.” James calls back. It’s not too bad, he says. Bring him over for some dermabond. Derek and Connor hop in the car and are home within the hour. I will say it again. James is such a blessing.
Connor was tuckered out after the excitement. He had a lollipop to eat on they way home and he didn’t even take one lick of it. But I am certain that he will ask for it first thing in the morning.
So here’s to our first real emergency. It took more than three years. I hate to say it, but I am sure that it won’t be the last.
Valentine’s day certainly was memorable this year!