Kids are gross
Kids are always getting banged up.
My youngest boy is covered with scars of his many adventures. If I put him and his brother at the same task, his brother will end up clean and neat and he will be covered with grime. If anyone is to be hurt it will be him. He is a fun kid and I love him. But I digress. The other day I overheard him and his brother talking they are 6 and 8. The conversation is as follows.
#2 Hey one of my scabs is loose, want to see me peel it.
#1 Ok
#2 Ooooowwwwww!!! Wow that was gross. Eesshhh it is bleeding again. Want some blood
#1 No.
#2 Here, have some blood, let me smear it on your face and we will tell mom you are hurt and she will have a duck fit.
#1 Ok, that will be funny.
The blood smearing takes place and son #1 is made appropriately gruesome.
I hear what is happening and manage to not laugh long enough to go tell their mom what is going on and, let her make her plans.
Son #2 comes running in saying that Son#1 has fallen off the zip line and is not moving. We rush out to see what is up and find Son#1’s face covered with blood and he is not moving.
His mother usually gets sick at the sight of blood but this time she takes one look at him and says
Oh well. Guess I will have to have another one. This one is all used up.
She then scoops up his limp body and carries him over to the compost bed and plunks him gently into the compost bed.
(For you Yankees and city folk, a compost bed is where you put all of your decomposing vegetables and grass clippings for future use as garden soil)
Son #2 takes one look at this, looks up at his mother and says. Mom if you are going to have another one anyway can I have his game boy.
Son #1 gets raises up with various grossness hanging off of him and with a hurt voice says, Dad if you ever get hurt around here don’t send for Mom, ask for me.
Snagely out.
My youngest boy is covered with scars of his many adventures. If I put him and his brother at the same task, his brother will end up clean and neat and he will be covered with grime. If anyone is to be hurt it will be him. He is a fun kid and I love him. But I digress. The other day I overheard him and his brother talking they are 6 and 8. The conversation is as follows.
#2 Hey one of my scabs is loose, want to see me peel it.
#1 Ok
#2 Ooooowwwwww!!! Wow that was gross. Eesshhh it is bleeding again. Want some blood
#1 No.
#2 Here, have some blood, let me smear it on your face and we will tell mom you are hurt and she will have a duck fit.
#1 Ok, that will be funny.
The blood smearing takes place and son #1 is made appropriately gruesome.
I hear what is happening and manage to not laugh long enough to go tell their mom what is going on and, let her make her plans.
Son #2 comes running in saying that Son#1 has fallen off the zip line and is not moving. We rush out to see what is up and find Son#1’s face covered with blood and he is not moving.
His mother usually gets sick at the sight of blood but this time she takes one look at him and says
Oh well. Guess I will have to have another one. This one is all used up.
She then scoops up his limp body and carries him over to the compost bed and plunks him gently into the compost bed.
(For you Yankees and city folk, a compost bed is where you put all of your decomposing vegetables and grass clippings for future use as garden soil)
Son #2 takes one look at this, looks up at his mother and says. Mom if you are going to have another one anyway can I have his game boy.
Son #1 gets raises up with various grossness hanging off of him and with a hurt voice says, Dad if you ever get hurt around here don’t send for Mom, ask for me.
Snagely out.
