Julie works from home, but on Thursdays she has a staff meeting to attend, so I stay home with Townes and take Nigel to daycare. As she said her goodbyes this morning, Nigel, in all his excitement, somehow ricocheted off of her leg into the coffee table, biting into his upper lip.
There was blood. Lots of it.
Julie immediately knew what to do. She threw down her bags and scooped up the boy. He bled all over her work clothes. I, on the other hand, frantically ran around for a minute until I came up with my sole contribution.
“I’ll call the doctor,” I said, hoping to avoid the emergency room (and, secretly, the co-pay). The doctor said she could see us in 20 minutes, so I scrambled to get out the door with both boys screaming. That’s when I cheated on this whole carless thing.
“You go to work. There’s still time to make the train,” I told Julie, and she sprinted in the direction of the train station. I threw both boys in the car. The one my mechanic told me would never be safe to drive. Ever again.
The doctor’s office is only half a mile away, but it was too rainy to walk there with both boys.
By the time we got there, Nigel was fine. The Tylenol we gave him had kicked it. The doctor took a look at him and said he’s OK. It looks a lot worse than it is, so no trip to the emergency room (and no co-pay), she said.
Relieved, I put the boys in their respective car safety seats and returned home. When we walked in the door, Julie was standing there. She missed her train. I was kind of glad. It turned into an impromptu rainy day in for our whole family.
We were all pretty beat up from this morning, but I can’t complain. We have it so good.