This Is My Weekend
Saturday I'm playing four square with my son and daughter. Never mind that there are three of us, by God we're playing some four square. Apparently it's the latest craze in 2nd grade, and my son found some chalk at home, and we have a driveway. Naturally, my 5 year old daughter wants to play, so she's in. I bounce a ball to her, gently. She goes to hit it back and promptly breaks her pinky. At least I think it's a break; the doctor told my wife that it was more of a dent in the soft bone, but either way, I broke my daughter's finger playing four square. Fortnately, my wife came home shortly after, just as I was rechecking what I thought was a jammed finger and coming to the conclusion that it probably was worse. My wife wroks in the medical field and was able to go to the ER, drop a few names and get right in. If I go in, we wait for hours and I eventually get arrested for assault because if my kid's hurt, I don't care if you have a bullet in the gut, you do not get to jump the line. She's fine now, has a splint and some new stuffed animals from her grandmother.
After injuring my daughter in a bouncing ball game, I played in a poker tournament. Despite my deep-seated parental guilt, I played very well, made the final table, then made a dumb mistake, lost all my chips, and finished 6th. The top 5 got paid.
The next day, Father's Day, it was time to abuse my son. I mean, if I can break my daughter's bones playing four square, I ought to be able to do some serious damage to him in the woods. We went hiking with my father and he'd been in the woods for all of 90 seconds before he was bleeding. He walked off the trail to pee, bumped his leg on a stick and ripped a scab off his knee. No, I was not responsible for that scab. Then, on the way out of the woods I notice he's bleeding from the head, behind an ear. I look around and he's got a decent cut back there with no idea how he got it, except that he's been running as fast as he can down the trail and might have hit a tree branch but thinks it might have been when a bee bounced off his head. I asked him if the bee was carrying a knife. He said no, and besides, if a bee had a knife it would be too small. Some cold water stopped any bleeding and cleaned him up. He escaped the woods with no further damage.
But I wasn't done yet.
My wife has not walked up the stairs to bed in years. I carry her. Romantic isn't it? Not when someone leaves a fan just below the stairs its not. I have her scooped up in my arms and step right into the fan. Somehow, she escaped injury. Your truly? Not so much. I wrenched my knee and find it a bit harder to get around today. I did, however, get her up the stairs.
I, for one, am sort of glad the weekend is over.
After injuring my daughter in a bouncing ball game, I played in a poker tournament. Despite my deep-seated parental guilt, I played very well, made the final table, then made a dumb mistake, lost all my chips, and finished 6th. The top 5 got paid.
The next day, Father's Day, it was time to abuse my son. I mean, if I can break my daughter's bones playing four square, I ought to be able to do some serious damage to him in the woods. We went hiking with my father and he'd been in the woods for all of 90 seconds before he was bleeding. He walked off the trail to pee, bumped his leg on a stick and ripped a scab off his knee. No, I was not responsible for that scab. Then, on the way out of the woods I notice he's bleeding from the head, behind an ear. I look around and he's got a decent cut back there with no idea how he got it, except that he's been running as fast as he can down the trail and might have hit a tree branch but thinks it might have been when a bee bounced off his head. I asked him if the bee was carrying a knife. He said no, and besides, if a bee had a knife it would be too small. Some cold water stopped any bleeding and cleaned him up. He escaped the woods with no further damage.
But I wasn't done yet.
My wife has not walked up the stairs to bed in years. I carry her. Romantic isn't it? Not when someone leaves a fan just below the stairs its not. I have her scooped up in my arms and step right into the fan. Somehow, she escaped injury. Your truly? Not so much. I wrenched my knee and find it a bit harder to get around today. I did, however, get her up the stairs.
I, for one, am sort of glad the weekend is over.
posted by limpy99 at 8:49 AM
8 Comments:
So... about that happy father's day thing? Yeah, I take it back.
I forgot everything else that happened once I read that you CARRY YOUR WIFE up the stairs to bed every night!!!!
OMG!
You are the MAN!
Impressive!
I was all ready to give you shit about your daughter's finger. But, after reading the rest, I don't have the heart.
Poor thing.
Okay, I'm sorry...you were playing 4 square!!! jesus, it's hard to hard to hold my tongue on this.
Syd, you just wait til TLF discovers four square. You'll play it too. Oh yes, you will play.
You didn't happen to watch "Treasure Hunters" last night did you? The reason I ask is because one of the teams was made up of a Pastor, his wife and his daughter. Of course they are the most cut throat team playing, and during one of the challenges the Pastor's wife dropped a crate lid on her daughter's thumb. The daughter was writhing in pain and saying she thought her thumb was broke. Her parents barely gave her a second look because they were too busy trying to find "the clue". I have no idea where I'm going with this other than to say there are worse parents in the world.
Wow! So the bad luck ball was all kinds of bouncing around at your house.
My story should make you feel much better...when my 9 year old son was 5 he had a blankie that he always sucked on and the end he was sucking became sort of shredded. He did something to piss me off so I go to grab him out of a chair to take him upstairs to his room for a time-out but low and behold a loop in the shredded end of his blankie was looped around one of his baby teeth...when I grabbed him I must have grabbed the arm that was connected to the blankie which was connected to the tooth cuz that baby tooth flew completely out of his mouth when I grabbed him. I didn't realize it until we were heading up the stairs, with my son over my shoulder - he starts mumbling that his tooth is gone and he's bleeding. Freaked the fuck out of me. We found the tooth with a half inch root in the crack of the chair he was sitting in. I had to look at that gap in his mouth where his tooth had been for a number of years, feeling pangs of guilt whenever I'd notice that gap. Sheeeesh.
Is it wrong to laugh at so much misfortune?
Probably.
I especially like the part about the bee carrying the knife-was it an African or European bee?
Post a Comment
<< Home