true story

ring, ring.
ring, ring.
"hello, this is bob barnes*..."
"hi, bob, this is claire [last name] from the oxford tradition summer program that annie is attending?"
"yes..."
"first, everything is FINE.  annie's sitting with me right here.  but...she got hit by a bus today."
"WHAT?"
"um, yes.  she was crossing the street and she looked left instead of right and she got hit by a bus."
"OHMYGOD!"
"she's okay.  i wasn't there when it happened, but a couple students came running back to the office to tell us.  by the time we got there the police were there and some EMTs.  they checked her out in the ambulance, and she's totally fine - just scratched up her leg and her arm.  we went down to the police station so she could fill out some paperwork, and now she's back here at the office with us.  she's right here - do you want to talk to her?"
"YES.  OHMYGOD."

this was my tuesday afternoon.  visions of a dead child in the street, replaced by a sobbing child with some scrapes and bruises, but nothing bad.  so scary for 10 minutes, and then so relieved.  ben, one of our program assistants, SPRINTING up the street to find her...when i arrived at the scene (and it really was a scene...four policemen, an ambulance, the bus driver being interviewed) he was emerging from the ambulance to say, wide eyed, "she's fine.  everything's okay."  some really really nice policemen who drove us back to the station in their car and made her a cup of tea while she filled out the report.  [note: station was not terribly exciting.  i had visions of meeting inspector lewis, but of course he wasn't there.]  back to the office to let her parents know.  me: "should we call your mom or dad?"  annie: "DEFINITELY my dad.  my mom would freak out."  me: "do you want me to call and talk to him first?"  annie, through tears (she cried for two hours straight): "YES PLEASE."


*names changed to protect the silly american involved.  AND I WAS NOT THAT SILLY AMERICAN.  i know you're impressed.