This morning I was very sweetly woken up by JL with a kiss on the forehead and, "Sweetie, Rich and Caity are coming over. Your father is in the ER getting stitches." And I was awake. My worry button had been pushed. I had been jolted. Baby Bee had been jolted. But before I could roll myself out of bed JL started to brush my hair away from my face and continued his story. I caught bits and pieces of what he was saying while he lulled me back to a happy place full of sleep and sunshine and fairies bouncing on clouds. It went a bit like this: "Crib...accidently....fine....Caity....hadn't eaten....monitered too...need food...be here when released."
So I put my coherent husband to work. He pulled me out of bed. He pulled the sausage out of the freezer. He started the shower. He kissed me good morning. He helped me in the shower. And twenty seconds later I was right there with him in the land of coherent thoughts.
Ten minutes later I was opening my front door, hearing my father (rather enthusiastically) blurt out, "We're all okay!" I have never been so relieved to see my father chipper and alert in his jogging shorts before in my life. The hot pink bandages were just an added boost of happy.
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