Boys...
I knew, from my very early days as a parent, that raising a son was going to be nothing short of exciting. From the bugs and worms and creepy crawly things that my cute little three year old would be so proud to show me, to the pediatric visit to treat a scratch on his eyeball, I have not been disappointed; excitement is exactly what I got. This week is no exception. Yesterday (Monday), while Katherine and I were wrapping up homework, I received a call from the school. "We have an injury." said the school administrator, who gets to make those delicate calls home to parents. "Okay", I said in my if-it-were-serious-they-would-have-called-911-first voice. "Here, I'll let you talk to Coach." Patrick's soccer coach comes on, "His finger...weird...". The cell phone call was breaking up, but "finger" and "weird" in the same sentence can't be good. Perhaps they already did call 911 and I'm their second ca