Last night we were all downstairs, and Noah and I were having a balance challenge to see who could stay on the fitness ball the longest. We've done this many, many times without incident, but this time I fell off my ball backwards and crashed my head on the basement floor. Very painful. That's the bad part.
The good part is that all three of them rushed right over (having heard the thud of my skull on the concrete) and helped me up the stairs and put me in bed. Noah brought me an ice pack and offered me food and water and aspirin. Sarah brought me her Ramona Quimby book in case I wanted to read. She also brought her white board in, and she wrote my pertinent information on it.
I know they love me, but it's sometimes a little less obvious in the teen years, so it was nice to see their concern.