Before Tucker left, he joked about having to spend a week fixing all the stuff the kids and I broke while he was gone.
Bet he wasn’t expecting me to break a kid.
OK. So I didn’t break Ollie. Ollie broke himself. Well…I guess the chair broke Ollie but Ollie caused it so it’s his fault. Right?
You know all those times you were told not to lean your chair back because you’d crack your head? It was like that except Ollie cracked his chin.
The most awesome part of it all was I missed the first call home from Tucker because I was trying to stop the bleeding. Poor Tucker got a 30 second call-back which went something like this:
Glad you made it safe. Love you. Gotta run. Have to take Ollie to the ER. Take to you later.
Cara ran down the street to Valerie’s house–Thanks, Val!–and Ollie and I took off to get him stitched up.
The whole way there he was falling asleep which was freaking me out since I hadn’t seen him actually fall so I didn’t know for sure he hadn’t whacked the crap out of parts of his head other than his chin.
Basically I kept one eye on the road, the other eye on Ollie and occasionally hollered
which pissed Ollie right the hell off. There’s a very good chance his propensity to doze off had more to do with the fact he stayed up until 11pm last night and much less to do with a possible concussion.
Both Ollie and I walked into the ER bloody; the admitting nurse didn’t even blink an eye.
Since I had left Tucker with hardly any information, I started taking pictures so Tucker could follow along on Instagram.
Makes sense in my head. I couldn’t call Tucker–because he has his phone switched to not receive calls–and my email wasn’t working at the hospital. Oddly enough, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram were working.
We’ve been home for a while now. Ollie and Cara are right back to fighting like cats and dogs that don’t like each other.
All’s well that ends with no overnight stays at the hospital is what I always say.
