tiny moments

Andrew and I shared a moment this morning, an awful moment where all the laughter and joy left the room in a split second. Sebastian was gleefully walking along the couch towards Andrew, who was sitting in our big green chair. I was standing in the kitchen preparing breakfast. We were talking and laughing about something when suddenly, out of the corners of our eyes we simultaneously watched Sebastian bounce off the edge of the couch and into the corner of our antique chest coffee table. In that slow-motion moment it felt like we were in a vacuum, I can still now clearly see Sebastian's neck bend back at an impossible angle, Andrew's look of terror and surprise, those agonizing seconds before Sebastian started to scream.

In the moments that followed I held him while Andrew fetched ice for his rapidly swelling forehead, we switched spots to get a better view of the injury and I went and got the poor kid a bit of ice cream. As he calmly ate it I asked him a number of questions and checked his eyes, all the while staying cheerful and light. I could see the worry was killing poor Andrew, but he was great. We managed about 15 of the suggest 20 minutes of icing before Sebastian was up and playing. He is now quite proud of his bump - pointing it out to everyone he sees:

"hey man, check out my bump" (okay, I taught him to say that - but it is still really funny!).




The swelling is completely gone now, all that remains of those few awful seconds are a few scrapes and a bruise that will soon fade too. I am very proud of how both Andrew and I handled the situation - we shot each other those looks of anxious bewilderment ("holy shit - what do we do??"), but maintained our composure and sense of humour. The minute it was over and I knew that everything was alright I shook with relief and had to hold back tears, so I busied myself cooking Sunday breakfast.