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!