It's no fun seeing someone you love sustain an injury. It's even less fun when it's your own child, no matter how old they are. The worst nightmare, however, is being responsible for your grandchild getting hurt while you're in charge of their welfare. We got through it with little more than a short bout of profuse bleeding, a nasty gash, and hurt feelings - and I couldn't help but be thankful it hadn't turned out any worse. Still, I wasn't prepared for the sleepless night that followed during which I kept waking up from nightmares of falls, toxic foods, and uncontrolled events involving people I love. 
I was happy (and tired) when the next morning brought smiles and sunshine to replace the tears and ice packs of the previous evening. Outside in the fresh air we walked through the wooded paths, climbed on stone walls, and crunched through thin ice to create happier memories of a visit to grammah's house.
It's easy to forget how quickly accidents can happen, and hard to accept that no matter how many precautions you take, they can still occur. It's also difficult to "let go" and not be over-protective, and to balance safety with having fun. I was wrong when I thought life would be easier when I got older, or that being a grandparent would be easier than parenting. 
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