I’m sitting in Starbucks working when I get a phone call. I see that it’s the school calling, so I answer. They tell me that James fell during recess and split his lip. There was a lot of blood, but he seems okay. He also got a scrape on his shoulder. No need to panic, but they wanted to let me know.
ENDING 1 – What I WANT to do:
PANIC! PANIC! My baby fell! He’s bleeding. He’s hurt. Did someone call 911? My poor baby! He must be scared! He needs his mommy! I will drop everything and run over there and hug him and hold him and make all of his pain go away like only I can with my magical mommy powers. I don’t ever want him to hurt. Not for one second. Ever.
ENDING 2 – What I THINK I SHOULD do:
They said he’s okay, so be cool. My kids don’t run my life. I’m no helicopter mommy. I’m going to raise independent, resilient, self-sufficient children. He’s a boy and boys are tough. Time to man up, kid – you’re in first grade now. No more kissing boo-boos to make the owies feel better. He’ll forget all about it by the time school’s out.
ENDING 3 – What REALLY happened:
My heart hurt a little that James got hurt, but they said he’s okay so I believe them. I know if he sees me he’ll want to go home. Apparently he told the office his lip didn’t hurt but it was “annoying.” I waited an hour then stopped by at lunchtime to give him some Tylenol in case it was still hurting. Then I said goodbye and left. <DEEP BREATH>
OK, I’m getting off my shoebox now.