Boys will be boys.

I expect two things when I give my husband and son a project on a sunny Saturday: Someone will be wearing a bandaid by the end of the project, and there will be lots of laughter. However I did not expect what happened. Here's the story.

I asked my husband and son to take down a fort we had built when the kids were little. It was old and ratty and the kids are now teenagers and no longer interested in playing on it. So I gave the men in my life the task of destroying it. Things went well for the first hour. They both worked diligently with a sawall and axe. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw my son roll to the grass writhing in pain and my husband rushing over to his side. I walked to where my son was laying. My husband looked up face pail and asked me to go get a clean rag. I ran into the kitchen brought out a dishtowel. My husband pulled down the waist band of my sons shorts and exposed an open wound the size of a quarterand a deep enough to need stitches. Blood spilled out from the corners. My son lifted his head and said, "Hey you can see my fat cells." "Why yes you can." I replied, "It looks like we're going to the ER." My sons head hit the grass covered ground and said, "It's not that bad just superglue it together." First of all, what is it with men and them thinking superglue can fix everything? "Not going to happen," I said, Let's go."

My husband and I took him to the emergency room where I found out exactly what happened as my husband was explaining it to the nurse. He was swinging the axe at one of the four wooden legs on the fort. As he struck the wood with the axe the wood splintered and the axe slipped out of his hands and hit my son who was standing eight feet away with the blade of the axe on his right hip and split him open. Sixteen stitches later we left the emergency room with photos and a story to tell.