I poked MYSELF in the EYE

Brain calm, body relaxed I sat in the big Chair of Suck The Motivation Out of You, wasting the afternoon.

I woke early and did 40 minutes of kickboxing this morning. I deserved this time.

Biggest of the Small People at school; smallest of the Small People taking a nap.

Then… the SCREAM. Not the fakey one, or the bored one, but the OhMyGodHeElectrocutedHimself version.

I run– down the hall, through the door. Mom-eyes immediately assessing the scene for blood and or window-sneaking ninjas. See one lonely leg between the headboard slats.

Hunh. So not asleep, just very, very quiet.

Carefully extracting the leg, I crawl into the bottom bunk for a cuddle.

“Sweetie, did you hurt your leg,” voice full of affected mom-sympathy. I started to lose real sympathy after the fourth leg-through-headboard extraction.

“Nooooooo” he sobs, “my eyeeeeeeeee. I canNOT SEE in my eye.”

Note to self: Spend more time explaining the eyeball.

Okay, true concern, “what happened to your eye.”


“I poked MYSELF in the EYE.” Lifts one shaking hand to my face, “this finger did it. It’s a bad finger.”


Okay, now this kid?

Three years ago, when he looked like this?

Totally scratched my cornea, so I felt honest sympathy. The performance quality, however, cannot be denied.

His hand, according to him, is in time out until further notice.

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