Terror

 I was sitting at my computer (I deserved a little break, right?) when I heard that sound.  The one that makes your heart stop beating and pound harder at the same time.  The scream from your child.  The one that you know is real.  Somebody is hurt.  And by the sound of that scream, we will be going to the ER.

I ran the 40 feet to the front door as my blood seemed to drain from my body by osmosis.  I reached for the front door about the time my sweet three-year-old, Mallory did, her shrieks ever increasing the closer she got.  We opened the door simultaneously and she screamed, "David got me all wet!"

I rolled my eyes, helped her get out of her wet clothes, told her to go get some dry clothes on and thanked my maker that she wasn't hurt.

I'm not sure that my heart is strong enough for this kind of scare again.