My Poor Little Sweetheart

With everything else that’s been going on, I failed to mention that Stacey called me early Friday evening. I swear my girls have this little test they give me now and then to see if I’m paying attention. I can always tell by the sound of their voices whether something is wrong or if they call just to talk. One of these days one of them is going to give me a heart attack. Normally when the “something is wrong” voice is on the other end of the phone and I ask them what’s wrong, the answer is either “I just wrecked my car” or “I’m at the ER.”

Well, Stacey’s response Friday evening was, “I’m at the ER.” My grandson, Quenton, fell at the day care and banged his face on the toilet in the bathroom. He had to have five stitches. My poor little sweetheart. I feel horrible for him and Stacey. I know she had calmed down before she called me because she wasn’t in tears and I didn’t have to ask, “What?! What happened?! Are you OK?!”

Stacey, I hope Quenton is feeling better by now. Give him a big hug and kiss from grandma.