Never a good sign when my phone rings, and upon answering it, the only sound I hear is Liam screaming his lungs raw. Not a good start to the conversation.
The backstory was that Liam got his fingers smashed in a door frame while playing around at Meg's ballet school. As can be expected, he thought it was broken and swore to every god and angel that would listen that his thumb was broken in multiple places and it was the worst pain a nine-year-old could ever experience.
Flash foward a couple of hours. I'm sitting in the Emergency Room with him. After two hours, we get into a room. An hour later, we get an x-ray. And after a total of four hours (during which time Liam took a nap and I caught up on email) the doctors determined he had an unbroken thumb. Swollen? Yes. Painful? Yes. Broken? No.
And that is how I spent my night.
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