Once when I had the flu I bent over to pick something up and kept going hitting my head on a window sill. Feeling a trickle i looked in the mirror only to discover that I probably needed 2 to 3 stitches over my eye. It was hardly worth the effort in my current state so I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and lay down on the sofa instead. The boy sees me and becomes alarmed at the sight of blood. With children it is always about the blood. I am firmly convinced a child could witness the most horrifying accident imaginable but if no blood was involved it would not leave the slightest impression. Add in a droplet of blood and they would require counseling for life. My boy assess this situation and in an alarmed voice yells, "Mom! You need help!" He then runs to the phone. 911? No. "How do I call God?" I explained calling God was called prayer and it was not done with a phone. Calling God was like a conversation. God always hears our prayers because he is a heavenly father who loves us. You simply talk to Him. I see the boy walk over to a corner and say, "God, mom needs help." He then walks over to me and informs me, "He'll be right here." Even with the raging fever I figured this was gong to be worth staying awake for. Sure enough, five to ten minutes later a neighbor knocks on the door. She was on her way to the grocery store but "something compelled" her to stop in. Great. "Could you butterfly my head shut?" She did and I recovered from the flu and the laceration. Today, as all three of the kids are acting like giant pissants, I pause to ponder and reminisce about this precious moment. It is so much easier than implementing time out for life times three.
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