It started with an innocent request.
The kids weren't ready. And come to think of it, they didn't smell quite as nicely as they should. "Take a shower while your father and I run an errand. When we get back, we'll all go out to lunch." Sounds reasonable, right?
Except that my phone wasn't on. And really, any time I'm away from the kids my phone should be on, shouldn't it. Because you never know what can happen...
My husband's phone rings, maybe fifteen minutes later. Since he was driving he didn't pick it up to answer. I glanced down and saw that a friend who lives down the street was calling. "I'll be you secretary," I said, answering the phone. "Hey, Mike! What's up?"
He hesitates, but I figure he's just surprised to hear my voice instead of Craig's.
"I don't want you to worry, but I have both your kids."
Any sentence that starts off I don't want you to worry, is usually good cause to worry.
"Why do you have the kids?"
"Well, there was a little accident while you were gone. We're on our way to Urgent Care."
My heart literally stops. We'd only been gone fifteen minutes! How much could have happened in fifteen minutes? And why didn't anyone call me?
I pull out my phone. Four missed calls from home and one from Mike. I slide the switch to turn the ringer back on, cursing myself for ever having turned it off.
Apparently, after he slid the shower door open, the glass shattered and one chunk lodged itself in the top of his foot. My daughter went running into his room when she heard the crash, saw the mess, and immediately started trying to call me. When she couldn't get a hold of me, she called Mike. Thank goodness he was home and answering HIS phone. And thank goodness my nine-year-old daughter had the presence of mind to turn to him when she couldn't reach me. (Yes, I'm still beating myself up over the request AND the fact that my phone was off. And yes, we need to get Daddy's new phone number programmed into the home phones!)
One of the drawbacks to living in a small town: our Urgent Care was closed. Because emergencies don't happen on weekends, y' know? After going back home, flushing the wound out and putting on a fresh bandage, I took my son to another Urgent Care, thirty minutes up the road. My husband stayed home to clean up the glass and blood in the bathroom and on the carpet. Exactly how he planned to spend his Father's Day. *sigh*
But don't worry. I'm already finding a way to incorporate this into a story. Because that's what writer's do, don't we? Here's hoping your weekend wasn't anywhere near as eventful as ours!