Never ever...

think to yourself, "My... it's been a whole year with no ER visits!" because when you do, you've put that out into the universe that perhaps it's time to have one. Or two. Like yesterday.

Set the scene: Nordstrom's parking lot. Date with Jack. I open the van door. Jack climbs in. I hear him shut it. I hear him cry. I open the other van door to see Jack's hand wedged in-between the car and the door. He's stuck. Immediately dial 911. 4 minutes later, Austin' Fire Department arrive. Then EMS. About 7 firemen (that I bothered to count) climb into my van with crow bars and wedges. They were able to free young Jack without dismantling the car. (Thank God!) Jack's fingers are bruised, but otherwise, he's fine. Profusely thank all the EMS and Fire Dept people and try to stop shaking.

Arrive home. Decide to take the 3 kids to a local drop-in daycare place we've used for years and go have a quiet dinner with my hubby alone. On the way to go pick them up, the phone rings. Thinking perhaps Lucy or Luke were at their melting point we answered stating that we were in route. Nope. L & L were just fine. It was our oldest. He lost balance on a low-lying floor-based trampoline and whacked the side of his head on a window seal. (Why a trampoline was near sharp objects is a conversation I will have today with the day-care's owner.)  Head to Seton SW. Wait. Get seen by triage. Get a room. Wait some more. Get lidocaine on laceration. Wait some more. ER doc has Jack lye down. Get 2 surgical staples in skull along with swanky new hair cut and bald spot. Head home. Collapse by 12:30am.

We all know the moral to this story, eh?