Heaven help me, I went to a freaking pumpkin patch with the kids and a slew of others yesterday.
The kids were running and playing tag on bales of hay, and my daughter (who is six), who was tagging a three year old who weighs about two pounds, accidentally knocked him off and guess what? He broke his arm badly.
The mother was so smooth about it. She was checking his arm out, unsure of what had happened. I stooped down and looked at his arm too. Good grief, I ought to know about broken arms. Eraser Eater broke both in a span of nine months and I about had a heart attack. He ran at me with this lightning bolt shaped, limp limb, and I screamed. I almost pooped my pants, actually. I had no clue what to do. I danced around in a circle, completely undecided. I saw a safety pin that I had no idea where it came from (it was the phantom safety pin) and I made a sling, since my son was trying to hold his arm up. He was white as a sheet and just had a wince on his face. He sat in the middle of the floor while I called Dear Sir and screamed and wept.
"Don't cry, Mommy," Eraser Eater said softly, "Am I gonna die?"
I was twisting myself around like I had to pee, I was so antsy. I had no car.
"We can set it ourselves," the Oldest said, "I read it in the medical manual. We can handle it, Mom."
This all flashed before my eyes. This lady was top notch though. She could handle stuff. She calmly asked her child if he could grab her finger, etc. I took a few looks at his arm and I said, "I really think he broke it. I would take him to the hospital." When she would touch his elbow he would flip out.
My Girl went to the very middle of the pumpkin patch, sat down, put her head on a pumpkin, and wept.
This isn't the first time she has seen an action of hers start up a result like this. I realize that it is not her fault, any of the kids could have tagged the boy. I see that. She just probably has a complex by now, gee whiz. You see, when Eraser Eater broke his arm the second time, she is the one who gave him the shove off the piano bench. Yes, I did say a piano bench. She was probably, I don't know, three? And she remembers it well.
So I went to bed last night dreaming of broken arms, in-shock-pale faces, and x-rays.