I survived

Seriously, I survived this weekend. And before you think I’m using a metaphor, let me say, “I am not kidding.” My son and I came very close to serious injuries. In the end, he walked, and I limped, away.
But let me back up.
We were camping in Mountains behind my home. I took my son on a four wheeler ride. We passed a few head of cattle, and my son announced, “Meow!” Immensely pleased with himself, he contiued to chant, “Meow, meow, meow.”
I turned a bend and came upon a deep wash running down the center of the road. Immediately letting off the gas, I cranked the handlebars to straddle the wash. Just in time, the wheels straddled the center. Unfortuantely, the silt on the sides of the road came loose and sucked the back wheel in. That pulled in the front wheel. The machine tipped to the side and our weight threw it in deeper.
The thought flashed in my mind that we were going to crash. The next instant, I thought of my little baby. I threw my leg out and tried to hold the machine up. I wasn’t strong enough. It jerked me forward and slammed me into the ground as it fipped, it’s wheels still spinning in the air.
My son was trapped under the fourwheeler.
I screamed for my husband, but he was too far behind us.
I was on my own.
Wincing as I stood, I threw my weight into the machine. But I couldn’t hold it up and pull him out.
“Connor, you have to get out.”
Through his shrieks of terror, he managed to scramble out. As soon as he was clear, I let the fourwheeler fall back to the ground. As it finally choked and died, we scrambled to the side of the road. My back throbbing, I checked my son over. He crawled into my arms and cried it out.
A moment later, my wide eyed husband pulled up behind us. “Are you okay?”
Through my tears, I shook my head. “My back.”
“Connor?”
We both looked over to see our little two year old pouring silt over his head. “I think he’s okay.”
Strong man that he is, my husband flipped the fourwheerer. After a few tries, we got it started.
After climbing stiffly back on, I said a silent prayer of gratitude and headed back to camp.
As we drove, my little son chanted, “Meow, Meow, meow.”