Christmas Day and the Emergency Room

On Christmas day no one plans on going to the Emergency Room.  But I guess that's why it's called the Emergency Room.

Number One son cut his finger.  Cut it bad.  On Sunday.  I had no idea he had done it and by Christmas morning, he was in pain and frustrated at his own efforts to doctor himself.  He was still a bit reluctant to go to the emergency room until I pulled him aside and offered to go with him.

His dad and I impressed upon him, that as a musician, you, uh, need your fingers!  He finally agreed to go ... without me.  At 29 years old, he doesn't always need me.

So as a family, we left him behind, and headed out to celebrate Christmas with aunts, uncles and cousins.  But as a mother, I felt a bit uneasy until we learned he was okay.

Relieved, I said a prayer of gratitude and thought about our Christmas morning.  We all laughed about the fact that as the kids have gotten older, their presents got smaller.  Now my husband and I acquire the most presents!  It's like our roles have already reversed.  That makes me smile.

Even though I love gift-giving and gift-getting, the non-trip to the emergency room ranks pretty high on the scale of best gifts.  Number One son probably doesn't realize that.

Don't tell him ... or his siblings!

I hope you had a joyous Christmas!

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