We’re seriously hoping that none of our friends call Child Social Services on us. We promise… we didn’t do it.
Last Sunday, we went over to Nosurfgirl’s house to enjoy a Father’s Day of games and food. Katherine loves it over there because they have two daughters close to her age (soon to be four daughters). Apparently, sometime after we put them to bed, which really only means they need to stay in the bedroom, Katherine decided that she could fly like Peter Pan. Apparently, she climbed on to the top bunk and jumped off. Apparently, she’s not like Peter Pan. Apparently, when you smash your head into something, you get a real nasty cut with a ginormous bump on your forehead. Apparently, after a few days, all the blood drains into your eyes and gives you two ginormous black eyes.
She didn’t even complain when it happened (I think she was too embarrassed), but when we went to wake her up and take her home, she started crying. In the light, it was obvious why. We were worried about a concussion, but she passed all the typical signs that you look for. Now, four days later, she just looks beaten and bruised, and of course we look like horrible parents.
I suppose every kid tries to fly at some point, and I’m glad she only did it off the bunkbed, but ouch. Next time (hopefully there isn’t one), we’ll make sure there is at least a big pile of pillows.