Anyone who knows me knows that I have a stunning propensity for self-mutilation inflicted by the most mundane objects. This time it was the screen door snapping shut on my ankle and Achilles tendon. Thetis and I have some chattin’ to do in the after-life. I understand the unwillingness to complete submerge your son, but did she have to curse the rest of us with this tender, easily injured, spot?
Anyway, as I hopped about the kitchen trying to curse in languages my son doesn’t speak, Ethan immediately became concerned.
“Oh honey. Oh you have bloods. Oh it looks bad. I think you need to sit down. Why did that door bonk you?”
He helped put away the groceries and helped me hobble to the couch with Ian, where we waited for Mark. Mark, good sport that he is, came home early (that is to say, on time) to help. Once he was home, Daddy had to be subjected to a very long, disjointed, tale about how the door bonked Mommy and Ethan sure did wish Mommy could walk so that he could have a banana. Also, baby brother was screaming a lot, could Daddy make him stop?
Fed with a banana and allowed to run willy-nilly about the house because he knew Mommy couldn’t chase him down, Ethan turned from concern to mockery. At one point he was perfecting an exaggerated stage-limp and moaning about how his owie hurt SO bad and we had better take him to the doctor.
As I hobbled from his room after tucking him into bed Ethan sleepily muttered. “Careful Mommy, don’t let that door bonk you too.”
I tell you, I cannot wait until Ian starts joining in this Greek chorus.
*Euripides
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2 comments:
Ouch. I sprained my Achilles tendon last year and it took weeks for it to be better. I hope yours heals quickly.
LMAO. Oh, I mean, gee, I'm sorry you hurt yourself. I hope you get better very quickly!
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