I Frankensteined My Kid

Our family decided to do some work in the yard in preparation for gardening season when my husband came home from work this evening. Excited about digging out old plants and prepping for our anticipated lush garden of abundant vegetable crops, I dug up an old woody Lantana bush while Daddy was doing a science experiment with the kids of finding out what happens when you place a slug among a colony of fire ants. As I worked at the stubborn roots, I was thinking to myself how fortunate we had been that all five walking kids weren't gravitating to the perilous street and were staying very close to where we were working. That same moment Jason entered within a shovel's length from me just as I lost control of my digging, causing the blade of my shovel to hit him right between the eyes. Panicked and not knowing exactly where the shovel hit his face, I reluctantly picked him up to assess the damage. Blood was everywhere, dripping into his eyes and onto his clothes. My husband remained strong throughout the ordeal, while Jason and I cried. After cleaning him up, my husband took him to the emergency clinic with my oldest daughter, who recently told me that she definitely does not want to be a doctor that cuts people open. The trauma is over, and the good news is that he's fine and with all the commotion I didn't have to cook dinner, and instead relied on the Burger King to feed us. Jason will go down in the books as the first kid in the family to get stitches because his mom accidentally whacked him in the head with a shovel.

Oh, and fire ants don't care for slugs too much. They're too sticky.