thankful she didn't crack her gourd, much
The other day I was sitting at the computer in the basement, enjoying a little peaceful time to myself. Tennyson and Mitchell were both napping and Steven and Jordan were upstairs, him on his way for his pre-night-shift nap and her entertaining herself. I could hear her doing something in the kitchen. The kitchen is at the top of the stairs.
I heard Jordan tumble.
She's fallen down the stairs before, but usually it's more of a sliding down on her back or front and not a tumble. She's never actually hurt herself much on these occasional slips down the stairs. This time though, the noise was incredible. It was so loud and it was definitely the sound of a head thumping down the stairs as a small child cartwheeled from the top of the stairs to the bottom.
I jumped up from my computer as my heart stopped. I actually screamed or yelled or something as I ran through the door and around the corner. In the two seconds it took me to reach her I honestly had a mental picture of her laying crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. It was definitely a moment where part of me wished I didn't have to face what I'd find.
Jordan was laying at the bottom of the stairs and just starting to get up. Steven came thundering down as I scooped her up in my arms, practically hysterical. She was screaming and crying, the tears flowing down her reddening face. I'm sitting there holding her so tight and begging her to tell me where it hurt. I couldn't make out what she was saying. Steven sat on the floor with us and was rubbing her back as our eyes met. I could see the fear in his face too. I held her away from me and we checked her limbs to make sure nothing was broken. Still she cried hysterically. We kept asking her "does it hurt Jordan, where are you hurt, where's your owie?" She kept insisting that nothing hurt. "Then what's the matter?" I'm convinced she's hurt and broken. Finally, through her horrible sobbing, we make out "my gourd". What? "MY GOURD!"
Not her head. Her gourd.
She had brought home a gourd from nursery school and the gourd is what fell down the stairs, probably followed by a young girl running down after it and tripping at the bottom. The Gourd is what sounded like a little girl tumbling down the stairs. The gourd is what almost made my heart stop. The gourd is why she was crying like she just watched the school bus run over her dog. The gourd.
I could have cried. I actually may have, just a little. I hugged her so tightly as I thanked heaven that it had been the gourd and not the girl that bounced down my basement stairs.
I heard Jordan tumble.
She's fallen down the stairs before, but usually it's more of a sliding down on her back or front and not a tumble. She's never actually hurt herself much on these occasional slips down the stairs. This time though, the noise was incredible. It was so loud and it was definitely the sound of a head thumping down the stairs as a small child cartwheeled from the top of the stairs to the bottom.
I jumped up from my computer as my heart stopped. I actually screamed or yelled or something as I ran through the door and around the corner. In the two seconds it took me to reach her I honestly had a mental picture of her laying crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. It was definitely a moment where part of me wished I didn't have to face what I'd find.
Jordan was laying at the bottom of the stairs and just starting to get up. Steven came thundering down as I scooped her up in my arms, practically hysterical. She was screaming and crying, the tears flowing down her reddening face. I'm sitting there holding her so tight and begging her to tell me where it hurt. I couldn't make out what she was saying. Steven sat on the floor with us and was rubbing her back as our eyes met. I could see the fear in his face too. I held her away from me and we checked her limbs to make sure nothing was broken. Still she cried hysterically. We kept asking her "does it hurt Jordan, where are you hurt, where's your owie?" She kept insisting that nothing hurt. "Then what's the matter?" I'm convinced she's hurt and broken. Finally, through her horrible sobbing, we make out "my gourd". What? "MY GOURD!"
Not her head. Her gourd.
She had brought home a gourd from nursery school and the gourd is what fell down the stairs, probably followed by a young girl running down after it and tripping at the bottom. The Gourd is what sounded like a little girl tumbling down the stairs. The gourd is what almost made my heart stop. The gourd is why she was crying like she just watched the school bus run over her dog. The gourd.
I could have cried. I actually may have, just a little. I hugged her so tightly as I thanked heaven that it had been the gourd and not the girl that bounced down my basement stairs.
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