So, I play in this handbell choir at Christmastime. This is what the bells look like:
These are the four bells that are in my charge:
This is me and my mom just before a performance (although I will admit that the black gloves don’t say “holiday music concert” so much as “bad heist movie.” C’mon, Mom! Grab your F7 and we’ll knock over a casino!):
And THIS is the text message I got from Brian 2 minutes before that performance:
We are at PCMC ER getting Wim stitches
ME: Whaaaaaa??? Also, WHAAAAA?!?!?
There was just enough time before the performance began for me to call and find out the details. While Brian was getting the children in the car to take Jeffrey to his Tae Kwon Do class, Wimmy tripped and bashed his head against the corner of the big coffee table in our living room.
It wasn’t a big wound, but it was deep. Off to the ER, ho! With Jeffrey still in his Tae Kwon Do uniform, huzzah!
I raced home as soon as the performance was over (hope you enjoyed it, residents of Valley Mental Health). They were just leaving the hospital when I got back to Salt Lake. Wimmy had a nasty raw-looking thing on his forehead, laced up with that horrible black surgical thread. Everyone praised him for his bravery (he didn’t cry a bit while the doctor sewed him up) and he was whisked off to bed.
Brian was the real hero, juggling four kids in the ER by himself. I am so thankful for such a resourceful, trustworthy husband. And I’m also so thankful that William was Frankenstien for Halloween. It’s just a little too delicious that the kid with fake stitches is now the kid with real stitches.