Just got off the phone with TFR. As soon as I answered it, I could tell something was very wrong. She was fighting tears, and I could hear it. And just as instinctively, I knew that the something wrong was concerning The Lad.
The conversation began:
Me: Hello?
TFR: Hi Honey...
Me: What's wrong?
TFR: Chay fell off the changing table!
At this point my voice was mirroring hers, right down to the barely suppressed tears.
Me: Is he OK?
TFR: He has a big lump on his forehead...
Me: Does he need to go to the doctor?
TFR: No, but he's going to have a black eye and he won't let me keep ice on it.
The rest of the conversation was mne reassuring TFR that it was just an accident and didn't make her a bad mother. I'm obviously very sorry for my little boy, but equally relieved that he's going to be ok. This was the first real brush with danger he's had since coming off of the monitors at 1 month.
Now if I can just remember how to breathe.
The conversation began:
Me: Hello?
TFR: Hi Honey...
Me: What's wrong?
TFR: Chay fell off the changing table!
At this point my voice was mirroring hers, right down to the barely suppressed tears.
Me: Is he OK?
TFR: He has a big lump on his forehead...
Me: Does he need to go to the doctor?
TFR: No, but he's going to have a black eye and he won't let me keep ice on it.
The rest of the conversation was mne reassuring TFR that it was just an accident and didn't make her a bad mother. I'm obviously very sorry for my little boy, but equally relieved that he's going to be ok. This was the first real brush with danger he's had since coming off of the monitors at 1 month.
Now if I can just remember how to breathe.
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