Yesterday, right when I was expecting Logan and Levi to burst in the door from school, I heard an emphatic knock on the door. It was one of the boys' friends reporting that Levi had crashed on his scooter and that a tooth had gone all the way through his front lip.
Jesse and I loaded into the van, and the friend volunteered to come along. As we wove through our neighborhood, we saw another friend, who flagged us down to report on Levi's exact location: at the end of the black path where it meets the sidewalk.
On the next street, we saw another neighborhood kid who gestured sadly at his bottom lip and shook his head as we passed. (And that was when I composed the title to this blog post.)
Exactly at the designated spot, there was bloody-faced Levi, perched on a fence post. Logan was standing guard next to him. Levi already had two band-aids on his chin. I was amazed to learn that Logan and his fellow-Blazer buddy had made First Aid kits at Scouts and now carried them in their backpacks. Levi had been pretty well patched up and even offered antibiotic ointment.
The good news is that Levi's lip was scratched up on the outside but intact on the inside. No trip to the urgent care was required. Major kudos to the scooter pack, who handled the situation with as much skill and wisdom as anyone could desire.