Suspicious Eyes

Handsome dude got a owie yesterday.

Can you see it?

It is on his right . . . your left.

Yesterday was the first day of Thanksgiving break.

What am I thankful for?

I am thankful that I did not have to haul 4 kids into an oversized diesel rig  and then return home and try to parallel park said rig back onto our street 3 times today.

Raise your hand if you also make 3 trips to the elementary school a day.

It . . . is . . . A . . . nnoying.

So, in celebration of our day off, we stayed in our jammies until 10 (alright 11) and made chocolate chip pancakes.

Handsome Dude gets really excited about chocolate chip pancakes.

He thinks they are cookies.

Me:  "Everyone get to the table . . .the chocolate chip pancakes are ready!"

Handsome Dude: "Hooray!  Cookies!  Yay!"

And as he was cheering and running and cheering, he tripped over his truck (odd) and slammed the side of his face against the table leg.

Poor Handsome Dude.

I am just hoping it doesn't turn into some suspicious looking black eye.

Or a suspicious looking anything.

Which reminds me of another story . . . allow me to share:

One morning, I was about to take a shower.

Now this was in the glory years before we had  . . .

//   //  

the children.

This was also back in the years when we had no money.

I was given a "hand me down" bath rug.

This bath rug was much too thick for our floor/door combo.

And, upon occasion, if the rug was in just the right spot, the door would get stuck on it.

Minor problem . . . right?

So, one morning, I decide to take a shower.

I walk into the bathroom and swing the door shut behind me.

I look into the shower and realize we are out of soap.

Darn my luck.

So I turn to grab some . . . and I smack right into the corner of the door.

And as luck would have it, I cut myself, right above my eye.

So, the Lumberjack has to take me to the Emergency Room.

See, folks. 

It doesn't always pay to be frugal.

I am certain that a new bath mat would have been cheaper than an ER visit.

But I digress . . .

I needed some stitches.

So, they laid me down on the table and put a sheet over my head with a little opening where they would stitch.

I can see nothing.

It is quiet.

The doctor:  "Are you alright?"

Me:  "Fine, thank you!"

Well, that was thoughtful of him to ask!

The doctor:  "Are you sure you are alright?"

Me and the Lumberjack answer at the same time: "Yes."

Now what could my Lumberjack be up to?

The doctor is now pushing me and yelling:  "Move!  Move!  Move!"

I am flailing, trying to remove the paper sheet and get off the exam table.

What is going on?

Is there a fire?

Is there a gunman?

Is there a mouse?

No.

My Lumberjack is about to faint.

The doctor makes the Lumberjack lay on the table and begins to fan him.

I am now sitting on a hard plastic chair and holding my 1/2 stitched eye and the paper sheet.

The doctor to the Lumberjack: "Would you like some juice?"

The Lumberjack, weakly: "Yes, please."

Oh, for the love of everything.

They never  offered me juice.

Man up, Lumberjack!

Is anyone wondering how on earth this story relates to Handsome Dude slamming his head into the table?

Here it is:

A nurse pulled me aside at the ER:  "Honey, what really happened to your eye?'

Me:  "I walked into the door."

Nurse: "Sweetie, it's okay.  You can tell the truth."

Me:  "No, really.  I walked into a door."

Nurse:  "How is your relationship with your husband?"

Me:  "Fine, thanks."

Nurse:  "Honey, did he tell you to say you walked into the door?"

Me:  "No.  I really did just walk into the door."

Poor Lumberjack.

He was looked at with suspicious eyes that day, all on account of my frugality and stupidity.

Suspicious Eyes-name that music artist.

So, please.

If you see my Handsome Dude sometime in the near future . . .

Please don't look at me with suspicious eyes.

He really did just get super excited about chocolate chip cookies, run across the room, trip over the truck that he did not put away, fall down, and hit the side of his head directly against the flat part of the table leg.

I promise.