The sun is shining here this morning which puts me in a fine mood. Or perhaps the coffee was responsible, but who am I to quibble. After a Super Bowl Sunday, it is always a relief to have a good Monday morning. Unless you are better at avoiding the Super Bowl snacks than I am. But, at least all that chips-n-salsa excess on my part didn’t lead to a trip to the hospital. Although for a short time, it looked like an emergency phone call might be in order.
Yesterday, while the rest of the world (or at least a chunk of it) was deeply engrossed in the goings on of twenty-two men in tight yellow pants, my Middlest was deeply engrossed in something of a different nature. They say that curiosity killed the cat. I fear my daughter might also be in jeopardy, for she seems to have a predilection for observing an object and pondering just where it might fit and how well that fit might be. Case in point yesterday: her “tall man” finger and a hole in a wall.
At one point we were identifying wall construction on that particular place in the basement’s storage area and I guess patching the hole just wasn’t on our list of things to do very soon.
However, it obviously became a “what’s this?” list topper for Middlest. I hear this little, “um, Mom?” and look up from the game. I know that look stretched across her face. It’s a combination of “everybody keep calm” and “OMG! I’m going to die!!”
Never one to panic (much) I walk over and ask, “what’s up?”
At which point she dissolved into a puddle of tears. When four adults failed to get her swelling finger removed from the drywall, I ran upstairs for some ice. The puddling turned into abject wailing when her grandfather got out his pocket knife.
“DON’T CUT OFF MY FINGER!!!” she screamed between sobs.
Her dear Papa assured her he was not about to cut off her finger and he carefully removed a bit of the sheet rock above her finger. He continued to chip off tiny bits until she was able to pull her finger out. My arrival with the ice pack seemed pretty anti-climactic at that point, let me tell you.
It will be a great Super Bowl memory for us, but I’m not sure it trumps the time I took her to Urgent Care dressed in a pink tutu and a tiara to have a Lego removed from her nose.
It seems this is a child with a bit too much trouble with Points A and Slots B. Or in this case, checking the matching diameters of objects and body parts. I shudder for the future, let me tell you.
Which, of course, is precisely why I encourage her to be a little book worm. At least when you lose yourself in a book, none of your body parts are in jeopardy. Aside from the paper cuts.