Blood in the Chapel

We may never go to church again.

___No, we weren't mortally offended or doctrinally alienated...just tragically embarrassed. Though Dangerboy was the one who suffered worst of all.

___It all started when we decided to sit next to DB's little girlfriend K., in the last pew before the rear aisle, before the rows of chairs set up in the cultural hall. DB and K. played very well together during the first half of church--no tears, no fights--and we were proud of him.

___Then he started to get a little rambunctious, crawling under the pew to make faces at the people behind us...which got their attention, 'cause he's so darn cute, right? Then he thought it would be funny to make a break for it. I caught him once; P. caught him the second time, rather dramatically, reaching over the back of the pew to grab DB by the leg. Now we had everyone's attention, and DB was loving it. He shrieked with delight and immediately headed back under the seat. I turned to P. and said, "We need to take him out." I reached under the pew and grabbed my wiggly baby, trying to hoist him out from underneath so I could give him to P.

___"What?" P. said. I turned my head to face him, still trying to extract DB. "We need to take him out!" I whispered louder, lifting DB up while looking at P.

___SMACK. Dangerboy's cheek, under his eye, had hit the corner of the hymnbook holder attached to the back of the pew in front of us. A collective gasp went up around us as DB started to scream and P. carried him out. I sat there stunned, feeling awful, then feeling worse as two people sitting near me turned around to whisper urgently, "He was bleeding."

___Wonderful. Still, I thought, how bad could it be? But I thought I'd better check on him, if only because they sounded so shocked. I went out to make sure DB was OK--I only had to follow the sound of his voice. Then I saw them--both covered with blood, DB obviously needing stitches. Who knew a hymnbook holder and a distracted mom could do such damage?

___Four hours and five stitches later, we were home again, Dangerboy feeling fine after a nap and proudly displaying the stickers he received at the hospital, where he was very good, again entertaining the waiting room but running around greeting everyone, even with a horrific gash on his cheek (it's a little less than an inch long).

___P. and I, on the other hand, have still not quite recovered. The whole ward caught us in the act, red-handed (literally--Peter had to walk back into the chapel to get our things with blood all over his shirt) being the bad parents we are. DB will have a scar to prove it. And so, I think, will our hearts.

___(Bring on the cheesy violin music here, but I'm actually serious.)

___So to all of you who called to check on us, we thank you for your honest kindness and sympathy; thank you for not being smug, though I know you're glad it wasn't your child happened to. And rest assured, it won't be. What are the odds of a hymnbook holder striking twice in the same ward?