Breaking glass

We didn't go to the emergency room this evening. It wasn't a close call, fortunately.

Some years ago, when I was barely into double digits, I put my fist -- and my wrist -- through a piece of glass. My little sister rapidly switched from trying to wind me up (which had precipitated said breakage) to binding me up. We put a homemade tourniquet on my arm, bandaged it up, etc....
My parents, on their return a little later, drove me to the emergency room, where the professionals were very impressed with the care my sister had taken of me:
"is she a nurse?" they asked me. "No, she's eight." I replied.

Luckily, when Boo put her hand through a pane in the door to the deck this evening, she merely had a slight cut. But it took me back thrumptysevix years, which reminded me how lucky she was (and we were) this evening.

Yours, any way you slice it,
N.