I Don't Want to Alarm You

My Wednesday was pretty uneventful until about 3:53 pm. I was wrapping up my work for the day and getting ready to leave the office when my phone rang. "How can I help you?" The voice on the other end said, "Hey, this is Laura from summer camp. I don't mean to alarm you, but...." The statement made my heart sink a little bit because I knew she was about to tell me something that I would indeed be alarmed about. I took a deep breath. I am a veteran when it come to school phone calls. I get called for a lot of things. There was the time my 4 year old told the whole preschool class that babies come from their moms vagina, the time my youngest stuck rubber playground padding up her nose that they couldn't get out, my child biting another, my oldest spelling the B-word (someone asked her how to spell it according to her version of the story, she spelled it correctly - by the way), peed pants, vomiting, asthma attacks, headaches, fevers....the whole slew. My mind was racing at all the possibilities.

"W hit her head at the water park and she has a pretty big bump. We've been applying ice." I just went into a barrage of questions, "Is she okay? Did she scream uncontrollably? Do her pupils appear uneven? Is she acting sleepy or disoriented? Is she having trouble keeping her balance? Has she vomited?" It was an interrogation pretty much. I went right over. 

When I showed up she was standing next to her former pre-school teacher who was applying ice. I went over and took a look and it was a nice sized goose egg. The teacher was crying and apologizing profusely "I am so sorry. I feel so bad that this happened. We love your daughter." I wasn't mad at the school. I can't tell you how many injuries have occurred to my children under my watch. It's not for lack of supervision or negligence. It's one of those things about being a kid. You stub your toes, hit your head, get splinters, break limbs, scrape your knees. I truly think it's a miracle that anyone survives until adulthood. Band-Aid must love children. I should buy Band-Aid stock. 

I crouched down and looked in my daughters eyes. Looked normal. She was walking and talking okay. Wasn't sleepy or disoriented. I was sure we had averted disaster this time. I was even more positive when she looked at me and said, "Since I bumped my head, can you buy me a treat?"