"Run baby, run!" I scream at my son from the bleachers as his tiny legs kick the soccer ball towards the goal.
My daughter sits next to me, coloring, and my son is in the stroller, asleep.
Kathryn is screaming her head off next to me. Her and James got back together and she finally had a baby. Their daughter is my youngest's age.
Maxwell, he's six months, Alexandria is three, and Ethan is five.
Just before my son kicks the ball into the goal, this kid on the other team, who I've been cursing at all morning, come running and tackles my son.
The ball flips out from underneath Ethan, and everyone runs for it, stepping on my baby.
The bleachers fill with shrieks and gasps.
The cheers die on Kathryn and James' lips.
Oh my god.
"Timeout!" my sons coach screams.
They already threatened to make me leave if I kept cursing at children.
Whatever, I'm supporting my child.
I rush to my sons side.
The coach is talking to him. He's only five years old, and he's screaming his head off.
His thigh bone is bent at an awkward angle.
"He broke his femur." The coach says.
His thigh bone.
The thigh bone is the biggest bone in your body.
I nod and very carefully, I pick him up.
He screams into my shoulder.
I glare at the bitch who took my kid down, and I give his parents the finger.
"Camilla," Coach Eddy says.
"Oh, whatever. You're thinking it too." I say, and I carry my son to Kathryn and James.
"I need to get him to the hospital." I say.
"We'll take care of Alex and Max."
I nod.
"Thank you." I say, worried.
I grab my purse and take the car.
I rush Ethan to the hospital.
He's still crying when I bring him in.
They rush him to the emergency room and make me wait outside.
Panicked, I dial his father.
I need to stop being so cold hearted towards Channing.
He's been gone for five months working on opening up like, six CC22's in Canada, and three of his pet stores.
He didn't want to, but he did it anyways.
He misses us, I know he does, but he's been so busy that he hardly answers the phone.
So, when he picks up, I'm surprised.
"Hey." He says.
I take a deep breath.
"That fucking kid, Channing. I hate him."
"Whoa, slow down, what happened?"
He's still got another seven months away.
The sound of his voice for the first time in almost two weeks brings me to tears.
