911

Our lives have been very busy as of late, hence my lack of posting! Our family had many fun adventures while on our annual getaway to the beach a few weeks ago and have found it hard to get back into the swing of things since returning home from our sunny escape.

Since the days since our return home have been so very busy, we were very much looking forward to a nice, relaxing weekend. When we filed in the door last Friday we were all relived that the week was over and settled in for a quiet night at home.

Not so much.

As the little man stood to get up from the bathtub that night, he slipped and fell, banging his chin on the side of the tub. As the entire scene played out in slow motion, I reached for him, but mommy's hands just weren't quick enough to catch him.

As I pulled him from the tub and sat him down, I immediately began checking his mouth and teeth. I was sure something had split, chipped or cracked.

Fortunately, it wasn't any of his teeth.

But there was a gaping gash on his chin.

Almost as quickly as it had happened, I had the little man dressed, somewhat bandaged up and in the car, headed to a nearby children's hospital that I knew had a 24-hour Urgent Care Clinic.

After a quick triage by the nurse, our fears were confirmed that the little man would indeed be getting stitches.

Although the little man sat contently and watch cartoons, mommy was terrified.

I knew what was coming and knew it wouldn't be pretty.

I sat in the chair, holding back tears. I didn't want to scare the little man or let on just how scared I was for him.

Then, as we waited in the treatment room for the doctor to return and begin the procedure an alarm sounded.

We heard an announcement come across the speaker in the hall, calling a "Code Blue."

There was a rush of footsteps outside the door.

"That doesn't sound good," I said to my husband.

Just then, we heard a knock. It was a nurse telling us that there had been a situation in the clinic that had pulled the doctors and nurses away and that our wait would have to be a little longer.

"Wow," I thought as I sat back in my chair. "Definitely not good."

But, after all, we were in a hospital.

Then it hit me.

We were in a children's hospital. Which meant somewhere just beyond the door the "Code Blue" was a child. A child with much, much more than a split chin.

And another mother, much more terrified than I was.

I immediately glanced over at the little man, still sitting contently on his daddy's lap, watching cartoons (one of the many benefits of a children's hospital - toys and TV's in the treatment rooms).

As he sat there, with a bandage across his chin that made him look like he had a little white beard, I was suddenly oh-so-very-thankful that we were only there for three little stitches.

When the doctor finally returned, the little man put on a very brave face and before we knew it, we were up and headed out the door back home.

As I tucked the little man in that night I couldn't help but give him an extra kiss goodnight.

Followed, of course, by a promise of chocolate chip pancakes, chocolate milk and Star Wars (more on that later) for breakfast.