“Daddy, we saw somebody get shot!” This sentence froze me in place. “What?” I asked, before remembering that on Friday before heading up to the campground that LatteGirl and TheWife stopped at Wild West City. Remembering that calmed my nerves and I said, “Yeah, I know honey, but they are actors, it is only make believe.”
“I know that Daddy, but we saw somebody get shot FOR REAL!” she corrected. I look for TheWife to chime in here and help me, but instead she glances up at me and nods her head in agreement. It turns out that an actor was shot in the head in what I can only hope is an accident. (Not that I “hope” for accidents, and not that it makes it any better, especially for the person now in a hospital in critical condition). The article I linked to focus exclusively on the shooting, but apparently the man also fell, breaking a leg and possibly his arm.
According to TheWife, LatteGirl would NOT leave until she was sure the man was “taken care of” and insisted on staying at the scene until he was taken away by the ambulance. I love and admire my little angels caring nature… but can’t help but wonder if we are going to be the focus of many of her therapy sessions latter in life. ( “They made me stand there and WATCH this whole awful scene at Wild West City.”)
I guess the thought of “What if…” is what is freaking me out the most. (i.e. “What if whatever the projectile was ricocheted and hit LatteGirl or TheWife?”) It just seems sometimes that no matter what you do in an effort to stay safe and out of harm’s way… that it isn’t enough. I mean, you can’t live life in a bubble. Just as many accidents happen “in the home” as anywhere else. Spending all your time “hiding” from it is no better, as life needs to be lived, but is there No place safe?