Lord WTF felled one of his own minions and I caught a glimpse into some of the dastardly booby (sp?) traps he has set for me.
Case in point, my oldest son. Whilst I was away upstairs tending his youngest brother, I hear him padding around on the first floor. Then, the telltale crash and crunch of face meeting glasses. Silence and then the hitching sobs. This is a kid who would rather eat dirt than cry in front of anyone, so I knew he must have been hurt or at least shook up pretty badly.
He meets me on the stairs with blood pouring out of two tiny cuts on his eyebrow. Any mother of a son knows this region of the body well and how profusely it will bleed no matter how shallow the wound, so we patched him up and he's sporting a lovely black and swollen eye for the next week.
After a brief respite, we asked the boy how he fell considering he is extremely agile and like a little spider monkey most of the time.
"Ma, the paper, it came after me and I fell."
The paper. So, before I start checking for killer newspapers flying about, I go downstairs and pull a CSI inspection. Follow the blood trail and spatter to the pool of crimson on the floor. A-ha! Seems Miss Rachel was doing her art earlier in the day and had placed one of her creations on the fridge, but used a weak magnet and said masterpiece floated gracefully to the ground. Now, if I would have stepped on it, I'm sure I would be nursing a broken tail bone by now, but a 5 year-old bounces more.
Just remember, not even such niceties as children's art work is what it seems.
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