"Don't worry. He's fine," my son's kindergartener teacher said to me over the phone when I picked up her call at 11 a.m. "You just need to take him to the hospital for a broken ankle."
Clearly, his teacher's version of "fine" and my version are quite different.
After I sputtered out a few questions while scrambling to find my shoes, my keys and my sanity, my son's teacher answered that he had stuck his foot under a merry-go-round contraption that they have at his school. The death-mobile ran over his foot, twisting his ankle, pulling him off and dragging him behind.
When we first visited my son's school, we were charmed by the throwback playground equipment of yesteryear. Instead of seeing a modern plastic park with guardrails, my husband and I looked fondly at the antiquated metal equipment and were reminded of our own youth.
"Why'd they get rid of this stuff?" my husband asked, marveling at the sight. "It's classic."
"I'm pretty sure it's because enough kids got burned or impaled."
"Oh, yeah," my husband said, looking at the playground in a new light. "Yeah, that makes sense."
This year, the school celebrates its 40th anniversary, and I'm more than confident that this merry-go-rigor-mortis my son got hurt on has graced the schoolyard since opening day.
"How'd it happen?" I asked before jumping in the car to go pick him up.
"I can't be sure," the teacher said. "But I think maybe he did it on purpose -- to see what would happen if he stuck his foot under it."