Its quiet.
Its never quiet.
Whenever we are at my parents' home in Idaho Falls, quiet is never the norm. Its almost unacceptable. With Jimmy (age 4), Robert (age 2 but the size of an age 6), Adelaide (age 2) and Brenna (age less than 1). Then you throw in a little bit of Davey and a dash of Kip, sprinkled with Big Mamma herself. So you can understand now why quiet is a problem.
I am not sure who first noticed it. But after it is noticed a quick roll call of all the trouble makers is immediately sounded off.
Davey? Ok.
Kip? Ok.
Jimmy? Ok.
Adelaide? Ok.
Robert? Robert?
Its quiet.
Its never quiet.
And with Robert missing, anything could happen. Jennifer takes Brenna and begins the slow scan of the upstairs and downstairs of the home in search of our little Dobbs while the rest of us continue enjoying company in the dining room.
Not downstairs. Not in the computer roo... "RICK!!!"
"Oh my gosh!! Rick, I need you right now!! Rick, you have to get down here now!!"
The sound of multiple children shrieking. Jennifer sounds hysterical.
Rick jumps up and runs down the hall. May jumps to her feet and turns the corner to follow. I am behind May, but as I turn the corner, May is now heading back toward me in panic, "I can't go down there. I don't want to see it. I can't look." Next to me is my mom followed closely by the footsteps of my dad. When Dad has those kind of footsteps, something is wrong.
We can tell Jennifer is back in my parents' bathroom. As I turn another corner to enter their bedroom I see Brenna on the ground crying. My mom stops her running to scoop up Brenna and coddle the young frightened one.
I enter the bathroom and there is Robert. Screaming at the top of his lungs. Blood. Blood on his face. Blood on his clothes. Blood on his hands and arms. Blood in his mouth. On the ground nearby also covered in blood . . . a razor.
The poor boy wanted to be like his dad and took to shaving at the ripe old age of two. We cleaned him up. Turned out to be two razor cuts on his top lip. He didn't feel the pain of the cuts so he didn't worry. He just sat there wondering where all this red stuff had come from when his mother walked in on him.
He's fine now. Just a couple of scabs.
It never good when its quiet.
Its never quiet.
Whenever we are at my parents' home in Idaho Falls, quiet is never the norm. Its almost unacceptable. With Jimmy (age 4), Robert (age 2 but the size of an age 6), Adelaide (age 2) and Brenna (age less than 1). Then you throw in a little bit of Davey and a dash of Kip, sprinkled with Big Mamma herself. So you can understand now why quiet is a problem.
I am not sure who first noticed it. But after it is noticed a quick roll call of all the trouble makers is immediately sounded off.
Davey? Ok.
Kip? Ok.
Jimmy? Ok.
Adelaide? Ok.
Robert? Robert?
Its quiet.
Its never quiet.
And with Robert missing, anything could happen. Jennifer takes Brenna and begins the slow scan of the upstairs and downstairs of the home in search of our little Dobbs while the rest of us continue enjoying company in the dining room.
Not downstairs. Not in the computer roo... "RICK!!!"
"Oh my gosh!! Rick, I need you right now!! Rick, you have to get down here now!!"
The sound of multiple children shrieking. Jennifer sounds hysterical.
Rick jumps up and runs down the hall. May jumps to her feet and turns the corner to follow. I am behind May, but as I turn the corner, May is now heading back toward me in panic, "I can't go down there. I don't want to see it. I can't look." Next to me is my mom followed closely by the footsteps of my dad. When Dad has those kind of footsteps, something is wrong.
We can tell Jennifer is back in my parents' bathroom. As I turn another corner to enter their bedroom I see Brenna on the ground crying. My mom stops her running to scoop up Brenna and coddle the young frightened one.
I enter the bathroom and there is Robert. Screaming at the top of his lungs. Blood. Blood on his face. Blood on his clothes. Blood on his hands and arms. Blood in his mouth. On the ground nearby also covered in blood . . . a razor.
The poor boy wanted to be like his dad and took to shaving at the ripe old age of two. We cleaned him up. Turned out to be two razor cuts on his top lip. He didn't feel the pain of the cuts so he didn't worry. He just sat there wondering where all this red stuff had come from when his mother walked in on him.
He's fine now. Just a couple of scabs.
It never good when its quiet.
3 comments:
That is scary, but funny at the same time! I really felt like I was there with your story telling. I think every kid has to experience shaving once. Rylee did when she was that age, but it was on her legs and she cut her knee.
Oh my goodness -- how SCARY! You had my heart racing there! Glad the little guy is alright! I'm guessing he didn't find much to shave on the cute little two-year old face!
That should teach him to shave. Since my first facial hair didn't come in until i was 22, any two year old who thinks he is more mature than me deserves a cut. I shave every other week. I am glad he is okay, but he needed to learn his lesson
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