Crash

So one thing I've learned as a parent is...you just can't keep an eye on them 24/7. We were home one lovely Saturday afternoon and Tagg was jumping on the trampoline. I ran inside to change some laundry and literally 2 minutes later, he's running upstairs crying and telling me he's hurt and he's sorry. I frantically examine him from head to toe trying to figure out what's wrong. Between his sobs, I figure out that he broke something, he fell, and maybe glass is involved. So I'm checking his hands for cuts and blood. Nothing. Finally, I asked him to show me what happened. Down the stairs we go, to the patio we practically never see and there...the old glass patio table is SHATTERED. Literally, there are a million pieces of glass. My hearts starts pounding even faster and I give little man another physical inspection, head to toe. Surely, with this much glass he must be cut and bleeding severely and I missed it. But no. He has a couple of small scratches on his feet and legs, is very freaked out, but otherwise...completely fine.

 

So, after much sleuthing and interrogation I think Tagg put his t-ball stand in the umbrella hole on the patio table, put a ball on it, stood on the table and took a big swing. Why,  I will never know but somehow, that shattered the table and he fell through the top. How stitches were not involved, I will never know. Lucky, lucky, lucky. And thank God for tempered glass!

PS...Scott got more injuries cleaning up the mess than Tagg did making it. That's another parenting truism, I think.