Somebody’s Going to Emergency, Somebody’s Going to Jail

Coming back from lunch, I ran across three cop cars, lights flashing, and one poor schmuck in handcuffs surrounded by the boys in blue. As I work for a home for youth in crises, cops are not a rare sight ’round here, but watching them haul one of our kids away is troubling. Bummer.

In other news, Youngest Son got his first stitches last weekend. Split his chin open at the pool. He’s having them taken out tomorrow morning. YS’s father jokingly mentioned that he’d had to have more than 25 stitches before he turned 18, so I guess he considers this a right of passage of some kind. But looking at my six year old with stitches in his face, and knowing that he had to get six shots of Novocaine before the doctor began suturing (he’s obviously inherited his mother’s resistance to medications) does not fill me with warm fuzzies. But YS has got a good story now, and all the kids at summer camp get to hear it.

 Ethan is the shy one in front.

Youngest Son is the shy one in front.

I went on a bit of a blog jog this morning, and found some cool stuff I want to steal, but haven’t quite figured out how to do it yet. That’s my next project: figure out how to upload YouTube stuff and sundry cool crap I find on-line. Ought to be fun. My hope is that after a few weeks of consistent blogging, I’ll out-geek Hubby and Eldest Son. (ES took an on-line HTML class, and now likes to lord it over me that he is more Internet savvy than I am. I told him that’s how it’s supposed to be. He can become a hot-shot programmer or something, and support me in my dotage.)

I’m listening to Celtic Woman right now. I love it.

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