Last night I dropped Hanan off at her friends. Arleigh was at a sleepover. I stood at the door and watched as Hanan’s friend’s twin brother raced down the stairs, flipping over the banister onto the tile floor. He was screaming “I’m gonna be first!” just before I heard the pop…outside. I thought he might have been jumping over the banister. It’s high enough that I’m not really sure how he fell over it, either way, he came over and landed completely wrong.

I was locked outside watching. His Dad was screaming. His mom didn’t know what to do. I told them to let me in. Bless their hearts. I walked around and saw it. He was wearing a sweatshirt. You could still see that it was a compound fracture under the sweat shirt. His mom just kept saying she didn’t know what to do. I told her to get ice. There wasn’t blood. We sent his sister for shoes and sent the other friend home. Bless his baby heart he was screaming. He was saying he felt pressure and something was popping. I had no idea what kind of first aid would help. I was frankly terrified that his poor parents were going to pass out at any moment. I put Hanan and her friend in my van. We left. They left for the hospital.

It made for a rough night. Hanan was scared for her friend. He was in her class last year. Hanan’s sweet little friend left last night at about 10:30. We know he had a compound fracture that would most likely require surgery. The image of that sweatshirt not in the right places, is forever burned in my eye.

The moral to the story falls somewhere between never run down the stairs. Sometimes the people who are first, are last. Pretty sure that’s in the Bible somewhere.