We had a lot of outdoor activities this weekend, the most exciting being Finn’s first exposure to being a part of a team. T-Ball practice was a hit! New friends! New skills! New fun! What more could a 5 year old want? Oh yeah, McDonald's. (Don’t judge)
Daddy-O also had big outdoor projects that involved a chainsaw so, needless to say, the boys spent a lot of time with him in the back yard. I did a lot of hauling of future firewood and admiring of my very strong husband and loud tool smitten boys.
Yesterday I had a bit of a breather from firewood duty and moved on to household chores. From the quiet of my kitchen I folded laundry and occasionally sneaked a peek at my boys and their dad reveling in all things Boy. My heart stopped at least three times as I watched the boys slip from a tree branches. I recovered quickly enough when it became evident there were no broken bones.
Nothing, though, could reel me in from near panic as I caught a glimpse of Daddy-O, hands clenched to his chest, stumbling away from the downed tree. The look on his face was pained. He started to tumble and then fell to the ground. I raced out on the deck yelling What’s wrong!?! My heart raced. My throat tightened. Where was the phone? What do I do?!!? Oh my God, NO!
Daddy-O heard my panicked cries and jumped to his feet and Finn, who witnessed the whole thing, yelled to me: It’s okay Mama. I just shot Daddy with my laser gun!
As my heart leapt back in to my throat and I broke in to uncontrollable sobs, I heard Finn say to his father Dadda, we should probably warn Mama before we play guns, huh?
My husband, who can fake die like no other, held me long and hard and promised he would.