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loudly.
My Four-Year-Old Called Grandpa After My Husband Broke My Leg
That was worse.
Small, broken sobs.
I turned my head.
She was frozen at the bottom of the staircase, one hand still over her mouth, her stuffed lamb hanging loose from the other.
Our eyes met.
And in that moment, months of quiet preparation came back to me.
The emergency plan.
The one I had taught her in pieces, disguised as a safety game.
