Mirror boo-boos. |
I fixed chicken stir fry for dinner, since Hubby was working tonight, and he doesn't like it anyway. Medium protested having to eat her broccoli and peppers. I said she had to eat them anyway.
As Medium is shoveling in the remaining veggies without further complaint, Small announces that she's full.
Surprise, surprise.
She has broccoli and yellow squash left in her bowl.
"You have to eat it," I told her.
"I doan' wannit anymowre!"
"You need to eat your veggies."
It was at this point that I became distracted by the other two Fries, and I missed something significant.
Small Fry leaving the room.
Medium was being silly, and bragging to me how she had eaten all of her broccoli and red pepper strips, and she whirled around, laughing.
Small's boo-boo. |
And that's when it happened.
As Medium twirled, she careened slightly off axis...just as Small Fry bounced back into the room (I am still unaware that she'd left), turned to face her twin, annnnnnd...their foreheads collided.
Hard.
Medium staggered back.
Small went crashing to the floor, knocking her little Disney Princess tray (upon which her supper had been sitting) into Large Fry's tray, jostling it.
Medium did not want to pose. |
I called Small over first, since I was worried she'd gotten a double-knock to the noggin, first from her twin, and then from the floor. Through whimpers and tears and wails and more of the same from Medium in the very-near background, Small Fry said the only spot that hurt was the already-swollen and purpling lump near her hairline, high on her left temple. I sent her back to where she'd been sitting, and checked out Medium. Her lump was on the right side of her forehead, above the outside edge of her right eyebrow, and not getting purple...but still red and swollen.
Medium with Pooh BBB. |
Yes, I have a supply of Boo-boo Buddies.
Of course, they both immediately complained that the ice packs--which they'd cried for--were too cold.
That was when I noticed that Small Fry's dinner bowl was gone.
"Where's your bowl?"
"Inna sink," she said timidly.
Chillin'. |
Medium was biting down on Pooh's icy-gel-filled ear as I walked in. "Don't chew on that! It'll make you sick!"
Honestly, I cannot make this stuff up.
It's OK. Boys dig scars
ReplyDeleteGee, thanks. That's SO reassuring. ;)
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