Once upon a time, there was a woman who was trying to clean up after dinner, help a child with homework, console another child who was very tired, listen to another child practice the violin, feed the dog, and talk to her sister on the telephone. All at the same time.
You know, a typical weekday evening for any woman named Mom.
In the midst of all of these other normal, noisy activities, the woman heard her husband calling to her from the second story of their home. He sounded upset.
The woman rolled her eyes and told her sister she'd have to call her back. The husband must have run out of washcloths, misplaced his cell phone, found a hole in his favorite t-shirt, or something.
The woman climbed up the stairs, to discover her husband was covered with blood. An actual emergency!
The woman grabbed one of the red towels which she kept handy for such an emergency, and tried to clean up the blood so that she could get a look at the wound. The husband had smacked his head on the girls' bunkbed while playing with the family dog, and had a bump and a gash to prove it. In spite of the blood everywhere, the woman was able to appreciate the irony that the first person ever to sustain injury due to the bunkbed was the man who built it.
The woman was able to call a babysitter and take her husband to the after hours emergency clinic. No stitches were necessary, but instructions were given to watch the man carefully for signs of concussion.
Eventually, they will all live happily ever after, but there will be a lot of laundry to do before then.