As I was washing the dishes last night with Son#4 I noticed a rather unusual bruise by his mouth that was almost a perfect circle apart from the fact that it intersected with his mouth. As a former nurse I immediately began thinking of rare haemorrhagic disorders that affect children.
Calm down, Jules! When I did I decided to question him.
Me: "How did you get that bruise on your face?"
Son#4: "What bruise?"
Me: "You have a bruise next to your mouth. It's almost a perfect circle."
Son#4 goes off to investigate. Returns a few moments later: "Dunno."
Me: "You must have some idea. It looks as if you got hit with a ball or something round. Can you think of anything that might've hit you in the face in the past day or two?"
Son#4: "No."
Me: "What about Friday night? Did you get hit while playing hockey?"
Son#4: "No."
Me: "Well, yesterday while practising hockey moves with your brother: did he hit you?"
Son#4: "No."
Me: "Youth Group Saturday night?"
Son#4: "No."
Son#5 speaks up: "I hit him in the face at Youth Group while playing basketball."
Son#4: "You hit my nose. I thought I was going to have a nosebleed." (That would have been a sight: Son#4 has spectacular nosebleeds that go on and on and on).
Me: "Well today, then. When you were playing with the little kids after Bible Study: did one of them hit you or elbow you in the face?"
Son#4: "No."
Me (getting frustrated): "Well something has to have happened. It looks like a love bite - like someone's sucked your face hard."
The light suddenly dawns.
Son#4: "The vacuum cleaner."
The vacuum cleaner. Now I remember. When he was supposed to be cleaning up the mess he and his brother had made bringing in wood for the fire, I'd seen him holding the vacuum cleaner hose up to his face. And it had been going.
Son#4: "Twice."
Twice?
My son has a love-bite. From a vacuum cleaner. And he's meant to be the sensible one. The dependable one. The academically gifted one. Yeah, right!
Calm down, Jules! When I did I decided to question him.
Me: "How did you get that bruise on your face?"
Son#4: "What bruise?"
Me: "You have a bruise next to your mouth. It's almost a perfect circle."
Son#4 goes off to investigate. Returns a few moments later: "Dunno."
Me: "You must have some idea. It looks as if you got hit with a ball or something round. Can you think of anything that might've hit you in the face in the past day or two?"
Son#4: "No."
Me: "What about Friday night? Did you get hit while playing hockey?"
Son#4: "No."
Me: "Well, yesterday while practising hockey moves with your brother: did he hit you?"
Son#4: "No."
Me: "Youth Group Saturday night?"
Son#4: "No."
Son#5 speaks up: "I hit him in the face at Youth Group while playing basketball."
Son#4: "You hit my nose. I thought I was going to have a nosebleed." (That would have been a sight: Son#4 has spectacular nosebleeds that go on and on and on).
Me: "Well today, then. When you were playing with the little kids after Bible Study: did one of them hit you or elbow you in the face?"
Son#4: "No."
Me (getting frustrated): "Well something has to have happened. It looks like a love bite - like someone's sucked your face hard."
The light suddenly dawns.
Son#4: "The vacuum cleaner."
The vacuum cleaner. Now I remember. When he was supposed to be cleaning up the mess he and his brother had made bringing in wood for the fire, I'd seen him holding the vacuum cleaner hose up to his face. And it had been going.
Son#4: "Twice."
Twice?
My son has a love-bite. From a vacuum cleaner. And he's meant to be the sensible one. The dependable one. The academically gifted one. Yeah, right!
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