That's what we kept thinking, anyways.
Two days ago we went to San Francisco. We were getting ready to see our friend Amy, the famous Amy who taught me how to knit (the first time: ring the soldier's neck and throw him off the cliff, or something equally violent) and taught me how to make fudge the old-fashioned way, and taught dozens of people at the land about good coffee in a mason jar, and fudge, and fresh cranberry sauce, and how to tell if a turkey is done (shake the turkey's hand) and in the middle of all that: living life.
I have many Amy-isms in my head that I pull out and sort from time to time. Like buttons.
Anyways. We decided, while we were waiting for Amy to finish up with what she was doing, to get amazing Blue Bottle Coffee and sit in the park nearby, the Octavia Park. (I found this photo of the incredible sculpture that has recently been erected there.)
We walked into the park and ran into another friend. Our friend Remy, whom we met in India, was sitting on a park bench, and called Chinua's name as we strolled along. Crazy!
So there we are. In the sun, drinking Blue Bottle coffee, watching the kids climb on the great set of monkey bars, talking with an old friend. Amy decided to just head on over to the park.
And blam and kerpow, a kerfuffle and I'm not sure what's happening, but three kids are running toward me crying- which one's hurt? It turns out to be Kid A.
Bitten in the face by a dog.
When I told my mom this later, she asked, "So was it a pit bull?" and I laughed, because the long emergency room stint was over, and said "No mom, it was a dachshund."And she laughed too.
So what happened was a man was pulling a wagon with three little dogs in it, and kids were walking over to pet the dogs, and my kids asked first and then went over too. And the owner was making conversation with them, and Kid A pet one of the dogs, and then leaned into the wagon and the dog freaked out and bit him in the face. He put a hole through his upper lip.
Oh my word. The dog owner got mad and yelled at us while we were trying to comfort our son, saying, "He put his face in the wagon!" and "What do you want me to do, I'm not a doctor!" Meanwhile there was a fair amount of blood and Kid A was freaking out and Leafy was nearly hyperventilating in empathy. People were trying to help us. Remy was helping with the kids and then suddenly Amy was there, and we decided to go to the hospital. The dog owner had taken Chinua's dismissive, "It's alright," when he was trying to get the man to stop reacting in anger so that he could comfort his son as, "it's fine to just walk away from this."
Amy decided to pursue the dog owner. Chinua got the van so that we could drive to the nearby hospital.
At the hospital I worked at calming Leafy down while Kid A was in the room with Chinua. Amy had called the police because the man wouldn't give her his information, and they headed over to take a statement. I'm not sure what we'll do with it, but at least it's all recorded now. The man's story had changed from, "He put his face in the wagon!" to "He pulled the dog's tail!" Something that Kid A assures us he did not do.
Oh, it was all a bit of a nightmare. And also a blessing, since it was not so bad. One stitch and some super glue, and Kid A's lip, which is extremely disfigured while we wait for the swelling to go down, will be okay in a few days.
He needed to be wrapped in a big white sheet and held down by one of the larger male nurses, to get the novocaine shot. And then he was surprised by how it really didn't hurt that much. He told us afterward that he thought the whole needle had to go in. Which would be scary, I'll admit. Poor Kid A. His face is so swollen.
I was amazed by how good it was to have friends there, even unexpectedly, when we needed them. Popping up all over the place, wonderful, wonderful people.