Sunday, April 07, 2013
Boys and knives
A few days ago while I was out walking with our children, Jaan found a knife in the woods. Just a kitchen knife; don't get any crime scene ideas in your heads! But then he set it on the ground (in order to smash a vodka bottle.* Yes, I am a great mother.) Bogdan picked the knife up and cut himself immediately. So, we rushed home to Papa for cleanup and a bandaid. That was one day.
The next day we were walking again, this time in the city. Just as we got to the market entrance, where it's very crowded and busy, Jaan yelled, "I cut myself! All my fingers!" He had been walking behind me, apparently whittling while he walked. I had no idea what had happened, but I turned around to see him bent over, holding his hand tightly and a crowd starting to gather. Of course, it would be one of those times that I didn't have anything at all with me. So, he had to walk through the market and home like that. Papa cleaned him up, the second day in a row, except that it was the other boy this time.
Fortunately, neither cut was bad at all, and they're both almost healed already. But do you think I should hide all sharp implements around here?
(*Did I have a "deprived" childhood that somehow missed out on this, or do American vodka bottles not have little marbles in them?)
Posted at 16:26