Yesterday was a long day. I am attempting to give my little dude some more attention in the hopes that this will curb his 3yr old tantrums.

I don’t really think it is working, but I am feeling like a better parent for doing it.

Then an impromptu playdate, and a forgotten 4-h meeting rounded out a chaotic dinner time. Rushing in and out, balancing responsibilities, and one strange moment when the car just wouldn’t start.

We were in that “tired parent” mode.

You know the one, I am sure.  When you ask your partner what’s wrong and the response is “I’m just tired”

We were tired.

We cleared the decks that evening and were tucking kids into bed.  Hubby was outside prepping his work tools for another busy day and I was snuggling the medium one (warm, cozy and content)

and then I heard “that” sound.

The sound of someone falling. Then that one specific groan that people use when they are trying not to faint.

That sound . . . and it was the hubby making it.

Leaping out of bed (waking child in process) I run outside.

The three year old is in a tizzy looking for me cause “daddy fell out of the truck and onto a shovel”

(Imagine, for a second, what my creative mind did with that one. .  . )

I was happily surprised to see he had not impaled himself, or sliced off a foot, and had “only” turned his ankle.

Now, he either turned it badly, or he has a “man sprain” (much like the dreaded man cold, but less ambulatory)

Ice, T3’s and nurturing and I am now staring at him on my couch (after forcing him to stop hobbling around and breaking things)

I have given him a pile of paper work and suggested he catch up on his accounting.  I am starting to think this might be a blessing in disguise!  Maybe a slow down is just what we need?

Whoops-  have to go. Hubby needs more tea . . .