UPDATE ON THE THUNDERING HORDE

It was a busy weekend. Saturday night some of the younger generation stayed up until 5 A.M. talking, and up-time for Church at 8 A.M. After Church and luncheon, daughter Jo and grand daughter Patsy opted for a nap. Some were kicked back in the living room watching TV and dozing a bit. Gene and Monica had retired to their bedroom for some private time. The little ones had gone next door to play at Shannon's where some older children were playing basball. It was quiet and peaceful, for a change.

Peace and quiet were hair raisingly shattered by 6 year old Little Lloyd bursting into the house screaming - shrieking is more descriptive - "He's blooding to death! He's blooding to death!" and crying hysterically. You know what that did to every adult in the house. Frantic questioning finally determined that 8 year old Joshie was "blooding to death," and there was a mass exodus from the house to Shannon's house, with Mommy Patsy leading the race and Grandmommy Jo right on her heels. (How is it that a little 4'10" round dumpling of a grandmommy can outrun a 6'2" grandpa in those circumstances? Women develope olympic powers when a child is in peril.)

On the driveway, half way between the houses, was 4 year old Llacey on her knees, head thrown back and both arms uplifted to the heavens, also crying hysterically, "He's blooding dead! He's blooding dead!" Little Lloyd was in the midst of the pack continuing his screaming wails at full decibels and somewhere in the confusion was 7 year old Summer adding to the cacophony with her high pitched shrieks. Completely unnerved, Patsy then chimed in with screams of, "My baby! My baby! My baby!", the sort of screaming that turns men's blood cold and raises the hackles on their necks.

I have noted that reaction in males to desperate, terrified screams from women. They instantly go into the defensive fight mode, adrenaline pumping by the quart, ready to defend the cave from the saber toothed tigers.

When the panic stricken horde rounded the 6' redwood fence, there was Joshie calmly perched on a picnic table craning his neck to see what the commotion was about, while the excited adults at Shannon's pressed cold packs to his eye. And he was indeed "blooding" profusely but not dead by any means. He was the only calm one in the bunch.

A little Babe Ruth had batted a would-be homer and the ball struck Joshie right on the brow bone and split it quite deeply. It was obvious a trip to the Emergency Room for sutures was in order. Jo and Patsy elected to take Josh to the hospital, Monica promised to take the still caterwauling three to the ice cream parlor, and the men returned to the house to repair their shattered nerves. Upon mention of ice cream, Llacey instantly stopped her crying, miraculously cured of her trauma; Summer gradually wound down to sniffles, but Little Lloyd continued his wails all the way to town and until the ice cream was in hand. Ice cream does possess curative powers.

On the way to the hospital Jo promised Josh a dollar for every stitch he received . Josh wasn't enthused about the prospect of getting sutures but he was definitely interested in the dollars. He asked his grandmommy, "Can I have one of those with a one and two zeros on it?" That boy should go far in this world. He received 7 interior sutures and as each one was done, Jo laid a dollar bill on his leg, until there were 7 in a row. The doctor used that skin glue for the exterior closing, so no sutures, much to Josh's disappointment. He was envisioning at least 7 additional dollars.

All turned out well and it appeared the adults' nerves suffered the worst of the ordeal. The trip home required a stop at a store so Josh could spend his money; the Hysterical Three were soothed by ice cream, although Little Lloyd seemed to still have some emotional trauma as he was the one who reacted the most violently to Josh's injuries. The men had recovered nicely from their adrenaline overdose and the women left them in charge of the Littles while they took a recuperating nap.

Gene and Monica took off for several day's "honeymoon," Patsy, Josh and Summer returned to Dallas; I am at home with Cat and Compaq. Plans are made for Gene and Monica to take the children on an outing for several days for some Daddy time; trip to CC and other family festivities are on the agenda. Two weeks is just too, too short, but I am very grateful for the time.