The Simple Joys of Life: Saturday, July 2, 2011

I hate blood.  Can't stand it.  I see a bloody nose and I recoil in horror.  Same with a broken bone or an arm twisted out of joint.  Needles make me squirm internally and a visit to the dentist raises my blood pressure into dangerous territory. 

My kids laugh at me all the time about this.  But it doesn't fare well for them when I am the only parent in the house.  If Felicity (4) gets a bloody nose, I will holler at the top of my lungs for Renaya (9) or Laura (7) to grab some Kleenex and do what they do best - pick up after dear old dad.  Its actually quite funny to see the poor sap with a bloody nose double over in a fit of giggles.  I take the mockery in stride.

On Saturday, the chance to get even fell into my lap. 

My gorgeous wife had to go to grab some perennials from a foreclosed property and left me alone with the kids.  While making lunch, I grabbed the sharpest knife in the house.  All the kids know that this knife can be a great substitute for a Husqvarna chain saw (which I don't own because I'm too cheap) in a  pinch.  I nonchalantly flashed the knife in the air so they could see I was about to use it.  Then, when their attention was elsewhere, I opened the fridge and hiding behind the door, grabbed the bottle of ketchup and squirted it all over the back of my hand.  I rubbed it around then hid the hand behind my back, closed the fridge, rinsed the other hand off, then slunk over to the counter to slice up whatever it was I was slicing up.

I noticed Laura was eying me suspiciously so I sliced for about 60 seconds until someone bumped into her and she had to issue a good slap-down.

The moment was perfect.  I hit the knife on the counter, dropped it on the floor and let out a yowl that would raise the hair on every neighborhood cat for miles around.  Holding my "bloody" hand in the air, I ran screaming into the eat-in kitchen yelling, "CALL MOMMY,  OH CRAP, CALL MOMMY.  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!"

As if on queue, Laura, Frederic (6), Felicity (4), and Jack (2) burst into tears and started wailing.  Renaya just started bumping into things, running in circles yelling at me that she couldn't find the phone, not really looking that well anyway.  Analisse (1) just stared in horror.  I kept yelling and wailing, letting some ketchup drip onto the floor.

Renaya yelled, "I CAN'T FIND THE PHOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!"

I yelled back, "I DON'T CARE!  FIND IT NOW!  I NEED MOMMY HERE RIGHT NOW!  AAHHHHHHHH!!!!!  THIS HURTS SO BAD!!!!  OOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!"

Renaya and Laura disappeared and I followed them into the office.  When I came around the corner, Renaya was still running into walls, falling down, desperately looking for the phone in every place that it wasn't.  Laura on the other hand was crouched on the floor, head in hands, shaking uncontrollably.  Then, Renaya took another look at my hand and immediately burst out laughing.

She told me later that the rubbing marks of my fingers gave me away.  I laughed and laughed and the kids quieted down and got the joke.  A few of them slapped me on the back to release their pent up fear the best way they knew how.

Laura, on the other hand, was weeping.  Tears were running down her cheeks.  She got the joke but it wasn't funny.  She had been scared out of her wits, thinking that maybe, just maybe, she would lose her dad right in front of her face.

Oops.

I scooped her up in my arms and gave her a big bear hug, kissing the tears away and rubbing the rest of the lines of salty water off with my shirt.  She wept on my shoulder for a few minutes and then was saved by mommy walking through the door.

I realized then that it took me pretending to be mortally wounded to discover that my standoffish daughter really loved me.  There are better ways to discover this truth and I intend to find the alternative next time.