The TV fell on me...

We have been sending our kids to a pre-school both as a chance to build some social skills and break their separation anxiety. Also it gives Jodi some time to study for class and catch up on her reading and papers for that. I fully expected that one day I would have to come to the school to get the kids because they were sick or something like that. I never thought I would get a call like I did on Monday.

Monday after lunch my cell rang and it was the school admin who proceeded to tell me that Jack had been hurt. Well that stuff happens, kids get in fights or fall off playground equip. I shouldn't have been surprised. But then she said, a tv fell on him and he has a pretty bad cut, but we have been able to stop the bleeding.

At this point my mind goes into overdrive. I just picture Jack laid out on the floor surrounded by a pool of his own blood. Basically every CSI episode I have watched came flashing into my head.

Of course it wasn't this bad, but until I see him I can't get the images out of my mind.

Then I have to call Jodi and tell her what happened. Critical point - must stay calm. Of course Jodi is upset - rightfully so, but to the point she would probably physically assault someone. So I try to remind her that first priority is Jack, then after he is better we can go physically assault whoever she feels like. Thankfully, this worked and she picked up Jack without incident.

My parents were in town (we were supposed to have a birthday party for Jack that night - cancelled of course) so they were able to pick up Molly. But not without my mom berating staff members who had nothing to do with what happened. For those of you that know her you can imagine...

So on to the hospital. And when I arrived Jack was sitting with his head in Mom's lap and looked up with a big grin and said "Daddy!" So even though I knew in my heart all along that he was alright, there was something about seeing it in his eyes and hearing it in his voice.

Jack liked the hospital, up until the time where Jodi and I had to hold him down while the doctor sewed the gash in his head shut with four stitches. The doctors were impressed with his vocabulary..."I'm stuck, I want to go home, it hurts my head"...delivered at full decibels. Thankfully the doctors were quick and they had a green popsicle, but those few minutes felt like hours as I looked at Jack's eyes imploring me to let him up and take him home.

Now I want to be clear here. This was an accident and although I am mad my son got hurt, I don't hold any ill will toward the school or the people working there. I am sure they were just as upset as we were that a child had been hurt.

I also know that this is probably not the last trip to the er with my kids. I hope that it is, but reality tells me that is not likely.

So Monday night as we went to sleep Jack told and retold the story of his day. "The kids pushed me. The tv fell on me. My head got hurt. I had to go to the hospital. I was stuck. I said 'I want to go home.' I got a popsicle." And over and over until he finally talked himself to sleep. "The tv fell on me..."