Then I turned around to see him standing up in the stroller. It slowly tipped back, and down he went, face first. He jumped right up. As I went to him, he clearly, calmly said, "God dammip."
Then he started crying. And I saw the blood.
I'm pretty sure this springy thing on the brake handle is what did the deed.
Yep, I'd say that was definitely it.
So, yeah. I'm going for Father of the Year. While my son played on something he shouldn't, I tweeted about him playing on it. And when he hurt himself, I took pictures of it for my blog. I've marred his perfect little face forever. Chicks dig scars, though, right?
Let's just tell Aerie he fell at the playground today, shall we? Thanks; I owe you one.
6 comments:
owowow.
So sorry. And btw, I taught Joe-Henry how to say Goddammit. Not proud of it, but there it is.
That's it. You're fired.
Rodius, who's your replacement?
Poor little guy! But, shit happens, and at least he knows how to properly swear.
She might find someone better than me, but she'll never find anyone cheaper!
1) love that this post completes the story that I saw play out in real time on Twitter
2) think badly of myself for thinking Thumper's awfully cute to say the G word just when the situation demanded it (reminds me a of a story that Anne Lamott tells of her son Sam -- retold at the opening at this blog post »)
3) sending Thumper a far away kiss-to-make-it-better for his chin
Thanks, ms. hoo. It was awfully cute. Thanks for the key story! And the chin is looking much better after many band-aids with antibiotic goop, and a weekend of soaking in chlorinated water.
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