So we meticulously plan our last DATE NIGHT before baby #4 arrives. We decide on going to Shogun for some Japanese deliciousness and then we'll go see Clash of the Titans in 3D which will probably be good EVEN WITHOUT Laurence Olivier.
I'm getting cute - and he runs over to Walmart to pick up some prescriptions for our little boy who has some ROCKIN allergies right now......and I get a call.
He's been hit.
BY A CAR.
WHILE WALKING THROUGH THE PARKING LOT.
So our good friend Emma arrives for our date, and learns that instead we're going to the ER. Off we go and she keeps the boys for a night of Emma filled fun.
I have to admit - I was worried. Visions of blunt force trauma injuries creating death and destruction were raging through my head.....and I sat in the waiting room after they took him for xrays- fretting and fretting and fretting. Why didn't they come? Why didn't they call me back?
Eventually he came out,and we spent our date at midnight at the Waffle House,where the cast of characters were very colorful -including the 18 year old cook who told us all about how he'd kicked his wife out of the house for cheating on him,and he may or may not have hit her. You know - it was like reality tv dinner theater.
Ok we didn't get our date. The timing sucks. But he's ok. So, I'm as happy as I can be.
Because it could have been so so so much worse.