We spent the day at a cook out hosted by one of Jason's co-workers. It was a casual gathering, one which we were privileged to be included in, of the hosts' friends and family and we found ourselves at great ease with everyone. During our Bocce Ball rematch, Jack was bounding around, chasing the feral cats, occasionally throwing his own ball into the match. Shortly after the seventh point, I looked over to find that Jack was in the midst of another nose bleed. The game stopped, we tended to our boy, at which point we packed everyone up and headed home. The rest of the evening was uneventful.
After putting everyone else to bed, I decided that staying up a bit later to lose myself in my favorite Jane Austen movie and blog a bit would be worth the lost sleep. After blogging my thoughts and getting teary eyed at the overdue union of Ms. Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy (why is it we're not told his first name?), I closed the laptop and wandered up to bed. On my way, I over heard Jack whimpering so I poked my head in to check on him. His face was covered in blood and the bedding smeared with it. After twenty minutes of tending, changing, cleaning and soothing, all was right again.
I am now officially worried, words that hardly describe my concern. I've thrown a load of laundry in and have found that Oxygen is showing Ms. Austen's most popular work again, for which I am ever so thankful to try to lose myself in, again.
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