Yesterday was one of those epic long summer days. Too much in and out of the house with mud tracks to follow. Too many minor disasters (using mommy's rosary to "unlock" the bathroom door and incidentally scratching the tar out of the paint one week prior to moving out is NOT okay). Blackberry juice on the floor, on the clothes, on the walls...yep, one of those days.
You have to know that I am trying to finish packing and at the same time trying to clean out our rental so having kids in the mix goes against all my efforts. That being said, I escaped the house with the children plus a friend after dinner to head to the library. Finally out of the house, no more damage could happen, right?
Uh uh. Walking through the parking lot into the library, I heard a watermelon smash against the concrete. Silence behind me. In slow motion I turned to see my little guy on the ground, head against the curb. Then screaming. Oh no.
I did what any mom would do- the scoop, the hug, rearranged his long locks to find the big bump. Then I ran back to the car with the screamer in my arms and called Josh who was working at the firehouse.
"Joey hit his head across the street, can you run me over an ice pack?"
Less than one minute later the truck and aid car pull in with the entire department on duty. Do you know what color I turned? Fire engine red, indeed.
"I thought I just asked for an ice pack?" I squeaked.
Small town living, even if it's only for 6 more days, is very comforting. And for Joey? He's okay. One more lump to chalk up in his three year old life and one more story for his mama.