Friday, April 13, 2012


Mags: "Poor Papa has a crack in his leg. Don't touch his leg. The crack will get bigger if you do. That will make a big mess."

The playground is such a fun place with swings, slides, and monkey bars. My kids start to beg  to walk down to the park with Papa (my dad) the second they get to my parents' house. They always come back exhausted and out of breath...all three of them. 

So, when we woke up yesterday morning and my dad said to the kids at 7:45AM, 

"Get dressed, let's go to the park.", it was completely normal. 

By 8:15AM they were out the door racing each other down the street and around the corner to their playground destination. My mom and I settled in with our coffee to enjoy some time together. After 45 minutes my mom decided she should get in the shower before they got home. I was finishing up some work on the computer when I heard the door open. The kids ran in yelling about how much fun they had and how they needed some water. I noticed my dad limping as he walked in behind them, mouthing to me, 

"I need to go to the hospital." 

I didn't get it at first. I knew he was trying to be discreet. I knew he was hurt. My dad has a crazy pain tolerance. He always just shakes injuries off. He wasn't shaking this one off. I ran upstairs and got my mom. I gave her the lowdown and then headed back to check on him. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, he was emerging from his bathroom with gauze and Band Aids in hand. 

The kids were in their TV coma watching a show at this point, so my dad sat down at the dining room table and lifted his pant leg.  That is when I noticed the blood and the HUGE cut. I did what any good daughter would do. I ran away. That way I wouldn't pass out on him and hurt his leg more. My mom came down, assessed the situation, and agreed he needed stitches with the words,

"Oh, yeah, that's a doozie." 

From afar I asked him how he did it. He explained that he was chasing the kids around. Mags was at the top of the slide taunting him with a "neener, neener". He went to climb up the METAL slide to chase her, but his shoes had sand on the bottom of them and they slipped. His shin caught the corner edge of the slide. It was painful to imagine.

After my parents left to go to the hospital and the kids came out of their trance from the show, they asked where Papa was. I told them that he had hurt himself at the park and got a big cut. Both of them sat there and argued with me. 

"No he didn't. He would have told us."  

No, he wouldn't have. Papa just suffered quietly while walking the quarter of a mile back to the house with his leg sliced wide open. The kids never knew. Tuck's response was he had to make him a card. Mags' response was crossing her arms and shaking her head saying,

"It's not safe to run up slides!"  She's so helpful after the fact. 

Ten stitches later, my dad is on the mend. Today is our last day before we leave to go back home. We decided we are going to grab some lobstahs and steamahs and take a walk along the beach. It's a nice, relaxed way to end the trip.

  Plus, there are no slides on the beach. 
Thank goodness! 


  1. Ouch. go Dad for not freaking out the kids!
    Did they laugh at you at all for running away?

    1. No laughing at me. They know from experience I'd pass out. Unless its my own kid's blood or wound, I don't need to see it! ;)