So those words were spoken to me last night. The oldest came home from work with tales of an injured hand of which no great concern was raised until late in the evening when he began to complain of his fingers hurting. As he painfully peeled back his bandages for me to inspect, I must have uttered a gasp of some sort. He looked at me with the faintest hint of alarm and asked if there was a problem.
"You probably should've went to the doctor with that."
The middle, whose experience with cuts and gashes and overall bloodiness has left him somewhat of an expert in the area of messed-up hands, immediately stepped up to the plate, assessed the situation, and pretty much took over. While I gathered what bandaids I could find and located our capless bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a bowl of water and washcloth had already been produced with instructions from the younger brother to the older brother on the importance of properly cleaning a wound. I realized I was nothing more than IN THE WAY when a question was asked in which I gave a ridiculous answer and was rewarded with a you've-got-to-be-kidding look. I took the hint and took a seat. Picking up my nook to read, I let the brothers know that I was just going to stay out of their way and not say a word.
To which I promptly heard, "Betcha ten bucks she says a word."
I looked up to see the oldest peering around the corner at me smiling and realized then and there that yes, they did indeed have the situation covered. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to just plain out stop time.
I am blessed.
1 comment:
What a moment in time. They handled it. Looking out for one another like that. Left mom speechless, ey? except for the gasp and the fact you had the last word here. Brotherly love is a glorious thing.
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