My brother’s son is 4 years old. Mean like all country boys, but excited about everything and fearless. Bobby’s mamaw took custody of him because my little brother made some very stupid decisions and was in timeout for a couple of years.
Mom calls down there all the time.
Today, mom got a call from Dote (short for Gladotia, and yes that’s a real name…) and told her that James was at Vanderbilt (huge hospital in Nashville, a few hours away) because he’d gotten burnt and needed skin grafts.
Mom had talked to Bob twice and never heard this. Bobby and Brandy even messaged with Kiera yesterday and noone said a word. Mom was indignant and upset and angry that they took so long to tell her.
It never occurred to her that the only person who bothered to tell me was her, and that’s only in afterthought.
“Anyway, now, it don’t seem right. He’s in there while you’re on the outside.”
Anyway… Thats just the little girl in me feeling worthless. That’s not even the only awful thing from this past week, but right now I can’t talk about the other one.