Billy’s got a black eye again this week. It’s not his first, and most certainly not his last.
It’s never a normal accident that causes these publicly obvious injuries. Clearly, people are going to ask how my four-year-old got his black eye. I’d like to be able to say something run-of-the-mill like “He fell off his bike.” But no; I have to say this: “He was balancing on two bowling pins while holding a pumpkin and then he fell off and hit his face on his wooden advent calendar.”
There was a time when I tried to lie. Instead of telling people that he was wearing one of my high heels and got his foot stuck in the staircase railing, I would say, “He slipped on the stairs.”
But after a while, the frequency of times he “slipped on the stairs” or “ran into a door” started to make me sound like a battered wife – or more like one of those characters on Lifetime movies who have the crazy Munchausen disease and like to feed their kids salt. Too many normal accidents just don’t sound realistic.