Mother's Intuition Gone Bad...
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Mother's Intuition Gone Bad!
Submitted by one of our readers...
Yesterday a long time and very far away family friend called to catch up. We had been talking for a while and surprisingly, all three boys had been peacefully playing during the conversation. When I started hearing what I thought was just going to be friendly banter, I quietly slipped away to a bathroom to keep my friend from hearing the commotion. We continued talking and laughing and the noise got a little louder, so I turned the bathroom sink water on full blast, stepped into the shower, and closed the curtain. (Come on, who hasn't done this?) At this point I've told my friend what's going on and we're laughing about it. Still talking and laughing. Noise getting louder. Talking and laughing. Banging on the door. The conversation finally comes to an end and as I open the door I am greeted by my middle son, Dawson (8) holding paper towels soaked in blood with a smirk on his face like, "This important enough for ya, lady?". Evidently, the "friendly banter" ended in a full out fight and the youngest, Davis (5) ended up with a bloody nose. I follow Dawson to the kitchen where I see multiple bloody kitchen towels (at which point I thought, "Not my William Sonoma towels!") and blood stains on my kitchen rug. It wasn't difficult to locate the injured brother because there was a trail of blood from my kitchen sink to the living room floor where I found him lying, stiff as a board, on his back. He was smeared and tired of lying so still, but I'm sure had been instructed by the other two to, "Lay on your back and don't move!!" They had practically packed his nose with papertowels...all guilt driven attention, I'm sure.
So much for intuition!
Submitted by one of our readers...
Yesterday a long time and very far away family friend called to catch up. We had been talking for a while and surprisingly, all three boys had been peacefully playing during the conversation. When I started hearing what I thought was just going to be friendly banter, I quietly slipped away to a bathroom to keep my friend from hearing the commotion. We continued talking and laughing and the noise got a little louder, so I turned the bathroom sink water on full blast, stepped into the shower, and closed the curtain. (Come on, who hasn't done this?) At this point I've told my friend what's going on and we're laughing about it. Still talking and laughing. Noise getting louder. Talking and laughing. Banging on the door. The conversation finally comes to an end and as I open the door I am greeted by my middle son, Dawson (8) holding paper towels soaked in blood with a smirk on his face like, "This important enough for ya, lady?". Evidently, the "friendly banter" ended in a full out fight and the youngest, Davis (5) ended up with a bloody nose. I follow Dawson to the kitchen where I see multiple bloody kitchen towels (at which point I thought, "Not my William Sonoma towels!") and blood stains on my kitchen rug. It wasn't difficult to locate the injured brother because there was a trail of blood from my kitchen sink to the living room floor where I found him lying, stiff as a board, on his back. He was smeared and tired of lying so still, but I'm sure had been instructed by the other two to, "Lay on your back and don't move!!" They had practically packed his nose with papertowels...all guilt driven attention, I'm sure.
So much for intuition!
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