Now that all the windows and doors are open most of the day, I’ve begun to hear the neighbors a little more. Things like a mom somewhere screaming at her kiddos. You know, things that make you think…
“Thank goodness WE never make that kind of noise.” and “Thank goodness I never scream at my kids like that.”
You know, the humble, merciful thoughts that are always streaming through my mind.
So yesterday, I asked T4 to run out to the backyard to grab a new lilac for the table. Poor little dude doesn’t have flip flops like his big sister H5, who bolted out the door before you can say, “Accident waiting to happen.” Naturally, T4 bust out into tears of rage, which was what I was dealing with when I heard it.
The blood curdling scream, the shrieking to end all shrieking, the death howl… it was H5, crumpled into a ball on the patio. A few weeks ago, she rolled her ankle, and had just rolled it again, terribly. I raced outside to scoop her up and bring her inside. She continued the death howl for many, many, many more minutes as I began to have a look at what was once a very normal sized ankle.
In the meanwhile, T4 was still ticked about her having beat him to the lilac bush. I tried to calmly explain that I was A LITTLE BUSY RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT, but it didn’t seem to be getting through.
At the top of my lungs (and that’s pretty loud because I’m a singer, a swimmer, and an alto saxophone player) I yelled, “ACTIVATE RESCUE TEAM…NOOOOOOOOOOOW!”
Finally, T4 clicked into the groove. Operation Rescue team is our code for: when someone is hurt, or if there is an emergency, you have to listen, obey, and assist, the adult in charge. It is understood that some of your own requests (like the need for a snack, the desire to learn how to floss right that moment) will be ignored until the situation in under control.
He calmly put on his shoes, finished finding the lilac for the table, got me a washcloth for the ice pack, and closed the patio door, to give the neighbors a little break from the shrieking and howling. What a little hero!
Turns out the shrieking was warranted. H5 was a fractured ankle – poor thing. She is fortunately, LOVING her crutches, at least for now. And I am forever humbled regarding the amount of screaming coming from neighbors.