Last night, Paul and I watched our friends' two kids (ages 2 and 4) for a couple of hours. It was great--all four little munchkins got along famously...it was actually easier to have all four of them here than it is with just two. Anyway, times were good until about 2 minutes before the parents came home, when little Samuel tripped over a pillow on the floor and smacked his forehead against a stupid wood strip along the bottom of a couch. He immediately developed an enormous goose-egg, much to my horror. The poor poor little guy!
My friends were really nice about it (apparently this little boy is much like Carson was at that age - a human bulldozer, slash, demolition derby contestant, with many battle wounds to prove it) and didn't seem to be all that concerned at "just" a goose-egg (which happened to be the size of a lime or a canteloupe, who knows), but I'm convinced they'll never let their kids in our house again.
Oh man, I feel just terrible. Nuts.
No comments:
Post a Comment