“don’t call it a comeback.”

As some of you already know, Blythe took a tire swing (carrying Liam) to the face LL Cool J style last week. Convinced her tooth was lodged somewhere in her bleeding, oversized lip, we made our first trip ever to the ER. Thankfully, Kristen and Tim stayed with the other kids. Mark left school to meet me at the hospital, and after our first of two hours in the “wait patiently” room (as he called it) laden with a groaning man, a convict (with three accompanying cops), and all sorts of people appearing to be near death, Mark decided we should just go home where he and Tim could remove the tooth in garage. Tim called 5 minutes later; he had come to the same conclusion. Blythe, when you get older and are mad at me for some reason, just remember — I saved you from exploratory surgery in the garage by Dad and Tito. It would have been fruitless anyway; the tooth was long gone. Here’s a picture of our now toofless warrior after coming home from the ER.

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