This year’s kind of been a train wreck, no? Global pandemic, everything’s canceled, derecho hits the Midwest, the West is on fire. Also, murder hornets.  

We’re starting to approach similar epic proportions in our household. To witness:

In June, Caroline, 12, got stung by a bee. Had an anaphylactic response. Now we all know how to use an EpiPen.

A couple of weeks later, Jenna, 17, backed out of the garage and over our beloved basset hound, Hazel. Her pelvis broke in two places, but six weeks of crate rest and a lot of doggy therapy for a not-very-active dog, and she’s all better. (Also, lest you think this is some fancy-schmancy dog therapy situation, let me assure you, it was Jenna and me, awkwardly walking/carrying Hazel around the backyard with a beach towel stretched under her belly. For six weeks. We’re practically certified with a 100% patient recovery rate.)

Then we went to junior nationals in July and Jenna knocked out two teeth. It was horrific, she put them back in, prognosis is good.

By August, barely recovered from the rounds of appointments with dentists, doctors, orthodontists and chiropractors, Nathan, 15, flipped his four-wheeler back onto himself. Sprained his ankle.

Related podcast: Farm safety and your kids

It was at this point that friends started asking, “What the heck, you guys?” But alas, two days later, Nathan backed Jenna’s car into a backhoe in the driveway. What even. That was expensive but not painful.

But wait — September! Nathan and a buddy crashed the farm four-wheeler into a tree. No one was hurt, praise the Lord. Except for the four-wheeler and Nathan’s pride. Upside: He’s learned about repairs and personal responsibility.

It’s not Christmas yet. Heck, we just got rolling with harvest. But after the summer we’ve had, I can say with certainty: My kids are getting bubble wrap for Christmas.

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