So just to change things up, I am not in the ER.
Instead, stretchy boy has proven that he is in fact, not endlessly stretchy.
The husband is in fact guilty of proving this. I think I will have more to deal with once his guilt sets in.
But right now my baby is in the ER. Broken. (okay, not literally, mostly just stretched.)
With the man who broke him. (okay,stretched him, pulling him up from a prone position on the bed during bed time.)
Because he is also the man who loves him more than life itself. (almost as much as I do)