The Narrator recently got new shoes.
He’s excited about them, he picked them out off of Amazon all by himself. They are a shade of green that makes it look like some twister cobbler plied his trade on poor Kermit the Frog. But he loves them, and that’s all that matters.
He’s so excited about them that the other day we went to the police station so I could pick up a key. While we were in there, one of the other town employees- whom he’s never met- was treated to his excited utterances about his new shoes. The woman indulged him wonderfully, she came out of her office and told him how nice they were. That just about made his day.
Today was his first day of school since he’s gotten the shoes, and it was pouring rain outside. I offered to carry him to the car so he didn’t get mud on them. Well, we got all the way out to school, only to find that the teacher was cancelling because the whole are had suffered a power outage. He couldn’t share his new green shoes with his class. He was crushed. Heartbroken.
We drove home, with a quick stop for a consolation cinnamon bun and chocolate milk. He felt a bit better by the time we got in the driveway. Again, I offered to carry him inside to keep his new shoes clean.
To this point, I’d been doing good. But right about now, it all goes horribly wrong.
I picked him up and started to hurry in out of the rain. I cut across the front lawn. Which had some snow on it. And ice. My foot found a patch of ice that had a thin layer of water on top of it, making it ridiculously slick. My hurry to get out of the rain, coupled with the sudden vanishing of traction and footing, and being thrown off balance by a 40 pound kid ended in disaster. We went down. Hard.
My knee twisted painfully, but I didn’t realize how badly at the time because I unceremoniously dumped The Narrator as well. He bashed his head and ass on the ice and immediately let out a wail that told me we were in serious trouble. Scooping him up and running inside, we of course found Mini-Me asleep on his mother when we came in.
Thankfully, he healed with an icepack and drink, with no real damage. A bump on the head and a sore butt is about all. I’ve felt terrible about it all day, a fact made worse by my wife’s icy (I need a better word) stares at me all morning, constant silent accusations reminding me that if I hadn’t cut across the obviously frozen front yard, none of this would have happened. She was right, so I didn’t argue.
My knee is slightly swollen and twisted to the point where if I sit still for too long, it tenses up and I can’t bend it. I don’t dare mention it though because…well….I dropped the kid on the ice. On his head. So unless I needed hospital transportation, nothing that happened to me is worth bringing up. It did make my pre-employment physical for the police department VERY interesting as I tried not to limp or hobble around this afternoon.
When it became apparent that the boy was alright and the Mrs. thawed out towards me a little, we started asking him how he was.
“J- How is your head?”
The Narrator: “It’s okay. a little hurty.”
“How is your butt?”
The Narrator: “It hurts a little.”
“What about your knee? Does that hurt?” (At this point we begin to mess with him. He never bumped his knee.)
The Narrator: “Yeah. A little bit.”
“And your eyebrows? Are they okay?”
The Narrator: “No, they’re a little hurty too.”
“And your uvula?”
The Narrator: “What’s that?”
“The hangy-downy thing in the back of your throat”
The Narrator: “Oh. Yeah that’s a bit sore.”
“And your uterus?”
The Narrator: “What’s that?”
“Its something only mommys have. How’s yours?”
The Narrator: (without stopping to process that)– “It hurts.”
The drama is strong with this one.