A short story in which Monkey tries to decapitate himself, flirts with an ER doctor, and traumatizes his nanny.

Today started like any other day. We woke up, ate breakfast, played, took a nap. Our friend Alice came over, and the nanny took my little pooper for his mid-day nap so Alice and I could make Chex mix and chat. Suddenly, a crash! A scream! I run into the nanny's bathroom and Monkey is laying a pile of shattered glass and the nanny is picking a giant free-standing mirror off of him (see below).

the dent where all the glass radiates from was made my by child's skull...

I was totally calm, the nanny was kind of freaking out, and poor Alice kept saying "What can I do?" I inspected him from head to toe, and he wasn't bleeding or anything. We decided to take him to the ER anyway because even though he only had a few teeny scratches on him, he had pulverized glass dust all over his face and I was worried it might have gotten in his eyes. After waiting 40 minutes, and after Monkey flirted shamelessly with the handsome ER doctor, they irrigated his eyes and said he seemed totally fine.

It was uncanny how calm I was. The nanny remarked on it later several times. I have always been pretty good in emergency situations (I mean, why else would I join a fire department?!) and I can stay level headed and focused when everyone else is either a zombie or falling apart. But I was surprised I was still able to do that, instinctively, with my own son. I guess I anticipated being more hysterical. 

It's good to know this, because I doubt this is our last trip to the emergency room with a {potentially} injured little boy.

Man, am I in for it...it's going to be a long 18 years.