Friday evening was supposed to be a blast. Marc left work a little early so we could get to the Clanton pumpkin patch in time to enjoy ourselves and then he and the little ones were going to leave while Marky and I went to a bonfire birthday party for one of his best friends. It started out well. We got there and jumped on the hayride out to the pumpkin patch.
Everyone was having a blast! Marky and Julia picked out their pumpkins and played with the other kids (a few others had gotten there early). 
Tucker, the outdoorsman at heart, had a blast on the farm. He loved his little baby punkin.
Tucker, the outdoorsman at heart, had a blast on the farm. He loved his little baby punkin.
Then we headed back to wait for the party goers to arrive. 
All the boys (about 15 6-year-olds) were playing around waiting to get on the hayride that would take them to a bonfire in the middle of the woods. All of a sudden the birthday boy started screaming and said, "my arm is broken!". And even from a distance we could all tell something wasn't right and his arm was indeed broken. Then it happened- he said, "Marky pushed me!". My stomach sank- please, please don't tell me that my son had any part in this tragedy. And yet, it was true. They were playing king of the hay bale and Marky had pushed the birthday boy off the hay bale, just as he had pushed Marky off moments earlier. Still, all I wanted to do was slowly walk backwards to the car and get out of there (you know, bow and say "and with that we bid you adieu.") The poor birthday boy had to go to the ER and the rest of the party had to get on the hayride and go out to the coolest bonfire ever and roast hot dogs and smores without the birthday boy. It was so sad. The birthday boy finally made it back at the very end as the fire was burning down and had just enough time to cut the cake and open presents. It was then that Marky realized the gravity of what had happened and was so sad. "I'm terrible," he said. "I'm so terrible- I broke his arm." I comforted him and assured him that we all knew it was an accident, but also explained that sometimes saying "Sorry" is not enough. Sometimes we have to go the extra mile to make things right. The great thing is that the birthday boys parents were MOST gracious and kind and went out of their way to make sure we knew they didn't blame us. A lesson is graciousness.
Saturday we had another birthday party to go to, which was great fun for Tuckerman who enjoyed a cupcake. No broken bones this time.
Nummy!
Keep the treats coming. Thanks for sharing your ice cream brother. A snow cone Sissy? Don't mind if I do!
And here is a picture of beautiful, longtime friend Christy and her lil punkin Christopher.
All the boys (about 15 6-year-olds) were playing around waiting to get on the hayride that would take them to a bonfire in the middle of the woods. All of a sudden the birthday boy started screaming and said, "my arm is broken!". And even from a distance we could all tell something wasn't right and his arm was indeed broken. Then it happened- he said, "Marky pushed me!". My stomach sank- please, please don't tell me that my son had any part in this tragedy. And yet, it was true. They were playing king of the hay bale and Marky had pushed the birthday boy off the hay bale, just as he had pushed Marky off moments earlier. Still, all I wanted to do was slowly walk backwards to the car and get out of there (you know, bow and say "and with that we bid you adieu.") The poor birthday boy had to go to the ER and the rest of the party had to get on the hayride and go out to the coolest bonfire ever and roast hot dogs and smores without the birthday boy. It was so sad. The birthday boy finally made it back at the very end as the fire was burning down and had just enough time to cut the cake and open presents. It was then that Marky realized the gravity of what had happened and was so sad. "I'm terrible," he said. "I'm so terrible- I broke his arm." I comforted him and assured him that we all knew it was an accident, but also explained that sometimes saying "Sorry" is not enough. Sometimes we have to go the extra mile to make things right. The great thing is that the birthday boys parents were MOST gracious and kind and went out of their way to make sure we knew they didn't blame us. A lesson is graciousness.
Saturday we had another birthday party to go to, which was great fun for Tuckerman who enjoyed a cupcake. No broken bones this time.
Nummy!
Keep the treats coming. Thanks for sharing your ice cream brother. A snow cone Sissy? Don't mind if I do! 
And here is a picture of beautiful, longtime friend Christy and her lil punkin Christopher. On Sunday we had our couples Bible study over and I figured out how to put two tables together in the dining room in order to seat 12- I was so excited. A fun weekend with lots of good friends. And beautiful weather on top of it all! Now onto conquering Monday. Let's go!
2 comments:
Love the pictures of the punkins! Poor little Marc...I just hate that happened to him.
The picture of me makes it look like I have actually "done" my hair. Who knew you could do trick photography?
Oh my! My heart aches for the boys. Hadley Kay accidentally dropped Brayden at a year and he broke his femur. That was traumatic for us too. I can relate. Adorable pictures.
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