Oh, I'm so glad you asked.
Here's the culprit:
That blasted four-wheeler that the husband built himself. You heard me...he built that.
We can digress for just a second and discuss how amazed I am that he can construct something that actually runs/moves/and has more than a dozen pieces withOUT directions, because I struggle with a simple recipe on the back of a box (you know...the gourmet variations of already boxed food -- about as wild as I get in the kitchen).
Needless to say...that thing is his baby.
And for some reason, the husband has determined that the children were responsible enough citizens to take possession of the wheel, and so they have taken to cruising through our hay fields in the baby.
I'm not especially fond of this arrangement, but there just comes a time when you have to pick your battles, and I had begun to decide that my aversions were probably just city/jungle girl hangups, and that I needed to release my babies to the inner workings of the redneck lifestyle.
So Tuesday wasn't much different. The husband was at work, our school work was finished for the day, and Keaton came in flashing his pitiful face begging to call dad to see if he could ride the four-wheeler.
Please say no. Please say no.
Ugh. He said yes.
So I head out in full pajama glory and sans shoes to take my position on the back deck to watch them do their thing.
First Keaton zooms through the hay with Tate.
Weeeee. This is fun.
I give the motion to switch partners....I want to get back inside.
Sawyer takes the passenger side and off they go.
Zoooom... Wind blowing through their overdue-to-see-the-barber hair.
Around and around they go.
I give the motion for one more lap. It's time for mama's nap.
And then I saw it.
As they were making their turn around the patch of trees in the middle of the field that is their turn-around, I saw the two driver-side wheels lift up.
This cannot be happening.
(Insert a sundry of onomatopoeia here such as CRASH. BOOM. And other wreck-related noises.)
(Insert full our panicky scream and look of terror.)
(Insert me running full blast in my jammies and no shoes across the prickly hay field.)
(Insert more screaming. And more onomatopoeia.)
Turns out the boys were fine. Praise the Lord. The baby wasn't as lucky.
I guess in all of Keaton's inexperience as a driver (ahem) he hadn't ever realized the consequences of turning super sharp corners while maintaining full speed. The four-wheeler rolled a couple of times (Praise Jesus for roll bars) and then landed on its side. Sawyer was thrown from the four-wheeler and face-planted in the middle of the hay, and since Keaton stayed in the vehicle, he landed on the ground when the four-wheeler did.
Um....Heart Attack much?
I don't know that I have ever been so frightened in all my life. The reality of what could have happened that day has kept chills shivering up my spine for 2 days now. In a matter of seconds, our lives could have been forever changed.
Still brings tears to my eyes and my knees to the ground in thanksgiving to the One who offers protection.
Jesus is obviously not finished with those two boys yet.
Epilogue to the Drama: The husband came home and wept over his baby. The boys are now terrified to go anywhere near the baby. And the husband and I are both content with that arrangement.