Tonight, the kids and I passed a car accident on the way home. After
the inevitable discussions about the number of each type of vehicle surrounded
the banged-up cars – “Mommy, look, there’s one fire rescue truck, one
ambulance, one police car, what’s that thing again?, oh yeah, one tow truck,”
etc. – and whether or not someone died, Ballerina’s focus landed squarely on
one of the accident victims.
Well, I’m not sure if she this woman actually was a perpetrator or a victim.
I wasn’t there to see the accident. Let’s just call her an accident
participant.
So anyway, Ballerina quieted momentarily when she saw this accident
participant, a middle-aged (I’m guessing)
woman (I think… one never knows truly)
who was strapped to a gurney and about to be loaded into the one ambulance. The following exchange
ensued:
Ballerina: Mommy, are
they taking her to the hospital?
Me: Yes,
baby.
Ballerina: Will she
die?
Me: Seriously?
Ballerina: Sorry. So
they’re going to make her better?
Me: Yep.
Ballerina: Got it.
They’re taking her to the hospital to take care of the bad things inside her
and then they will get the bad things out and then the bad things won’t be
inside her anymore.
So now this is what I envision when I think about the woman on the
gurney and what will happen when she arrives at the hospital.
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| c/o IMDB.com and Paramount |
For a more action-packed version, here you go...
Way to go, Ballerina.
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