We thought that Monday would be a day to catch up on household stuff and more importantly, sleep. We went out for dinner (no kitchen clean-up. kids go straight to bed. parents follow shortly thereafter.) and as we drove back into the neighborhood, we saw an ambulance and a firetruck, lights flashing, in our culdesac.
My heart nearly dropped out of my stomach.
We drove closer and discovered that it was our new neighbor across the street. They were carrying him out on a stretcher. His family just stood in the driveway watching.
Oy.
Bryan went over to see if he could help after the trucks left, and he came back with their 11 year old twins. They hadn't eaten supper yet, and I guess their mom wasn't ready to take them to the hospital until they figured out what had happened.
The kids stayed with us until 11. We tried to take their minds off of their dad. We watched a movie. We played Monopoly (which they had NEVER played before. Is it just me, or should kids know Monopoly by the time they are 11??). It seemed like they were having a marginal amount of fun. But I felt so helpless.
What is the right thing to say or do when they don't know if their dad is going to come home?
And I thought I had problems.
Every once in a while, things are put into perspective.
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1 comment:
Oh my god! That's awful, what happened?
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