Our retired, friendly neighbor stopped by our house, and he and I were standing just inside my open garage door while he explained to me how to properly mix leaf blower oil. All the while I was watching my son ride up and down our sloped driveway into the garage, each time starting higher at the top. Trying not be rude, I would occasionally excuse myself and offer a parental warning, such as “Be careful” or “That’s as high as you should go” to my brave big wheel racer. A couple of times I noticed my belly felt a little funny—perhaps it was hunger pangs or maybe even the extra piece of cake I had for dessert last night calling to haunt me.
As I quickly cradled my little man in my arms, cursing myself in my head and frantically searching over his sweet body making sure all the parts were still there (and thankfully they were), my eyes landed on a three-inch diameter scrape a half centimeter from his gorgeous green right eye. After realizing all would be okay, my oil informant walked back to his house, as I carried my now calm but slightly whimpering son.
After cleaning his wound, we decided it best to skip a regular, well-balanced lunch and went straight for the Cheez-Its, and yes, I allowed him to eat all of them that he wanted before naptime. As my son slumbers and I write this, my belly feels quite uneasy, but at least this time I can blame SpongeBob.