At left however, is what I like to call the result of family sculpting gone bad. In marriage and family therapy there is a concept called family sculpting. Think of it as a snapshot, if you will, of what one's family looks like in the normal routine of everyday life. Camping, as I have come to conclude, is a reorganizing of the normal family sculpture. To put in other terms, moving the family from a 2,800+ square foot house into a 26-foot camper is an extreme restructuring of the family sculpture.
As the wife and I were laying on our bed/sofa Saturday morning, Lori lazily perusing a magazine, myself giving the appearance of reading homework, the girls watching a movie in their "room" in the back of the camper, peace and tranquility seemed to be achieved even in the midst of our new found sculpture. As camping fate would have it however, the peace and tranquility that we were enjoying was intruded by two siblings whose sculpture seemed to crumble. One wanted on the top bunk in order to see the movie better, the other refuted the request with vehement and boisterous opposition. Just as I peered over the top of my book the sculpture crumbled. The sibling who was standing on the stool attempting to gain access to the top bunk was unaware that her younger and smaller sibling had chosen to join with on the stool. In that moment the stool gave way to the brewing storm and alas, Kavan's first trip to the E.R. was soon forthcoming as he tumbled in the tight space hitting his lip on the bottom bunk.
As if by design, Mom leaped from her lackadaisical posture to swoop her son into her arms and offer the comfort only a mother could give. The feuding sisters had now turned their energy into tears realizing that Kavan was hurt showing genuine concern for his injury. It wasn't until Lori pulled the boy from her chest that the blood became evident. The sculpture had now truly crumbled. The siblings, regardless of role in the affair, were all sent to the suburban to prepare for the ensuing journey to the nearest E.R. We quickly but calmly gathered necessary items for what we expected to be a typically lengthy E.R. visit.
Upon arriving at the E.R. we entered expecting the typical scene of listless souls aging as they waited to be seen. At first I was pleasantly surprised to find the waiting room empty. "We'll be first!" I immediately thought to myself. However, no one was at the reception desk. Even the admissions window where payments are made was vacant. Now I was concerned, what hospital is not prepared to take money? As I walked down the hall past even the empty X-ray department I wondered if the boys from the horror movie portrayed in the "Dead-Zone" Verizon commercial were soon to appear. My journey took me all the way to the main hospital entrance where human life did exist in this middle of nowhere semi-deserted hospital. We were soon in the triage room and after a short wait escorted to the treatment area. As all parents can attest that have watched their offspring in pain, the next part was painful for Mom and Dad as our job was to hold our little man while the doctor installed the three stitches that would soon be coined as Kavan's whiskers--noted in picture above left.
His stitches came out Thursday of this week. Our family sculpture has regained its original shape just as memory foam that was severely compressed for a couple of days will ultimately return to its original state. We had a good chat after returning home about the overall experience much of which is relegated to the confidence of our immediate family circle. However, I can assure you that our family sculpture is healthy and stable. And as you can see below, the Little Man is no worse for the wear! Blessings to all.
