Every year, our church's youth group hosts a Valentine's dinner fundraiser. It's a good time with great food, and there's childcare. So far, we have decided that we will only let Matthew go to the nursery during Bible study on Sundays if an adult is in charge. (Thanks, Laurie!) For this thing, we figured we'd be there about half an hour, and the girl in charge is in high school and seems responsible. And Matt's almost 8 months, he knew the other kids in there, and we would barely be leaving him for any amount of time.
It started out okay. We started eating our food, chatting with Cindy and Sean, not really thinking about Matt.
And then the daughter of one of my friends briskly walked toward us and said, "Mrs. Alexy?" (Which of course alarmed me. Being called "Mrs." is always alarming. Am I really a grown-up? And I live in Alabama where kids are often not allowed to call adults by their first names? Ugh. Worse than being called "ma'am" even. But anyway.) "Mrs. Alexy? Your baby is coughing up blood."
WHAT?!
Jeff and I almost-ran out of there, across the church to the nursery room, and I was thinking they'd let him put some small toy in his throat and he was choking or something, and I was wondering how quickly we'd be able to get to the hospital and and and
And we opened the door, and Matthew had been spitting up carrots. I may have laughed in relief. Of course, he was still crying and he inexplicably had his pants and one sock off, but still. Carrots. Not blood.
It was probably worse for everyone else in there than for Matthew. I'm guessing he started spitting up, everyone started panicking, and he started crying. Then he kept crying because no one picked him up! They just panicked, and he sat on the floor and cried, wondering what he did wrong. Poor kids. But, yeah, back to our policy of only letting adults watch him at all times. High schoolers, not so much. Maybe when he's like 5.
Carrots. Not blood.
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