Laughter: the best medicine

19Jan11

This past Wednesday, Lee turned 15 months old.  We had a great day.  We danced and played and had good food (mushed turkey and vegetables…yuuum).  When it came time to figure out what the adults were going to eat for dinner we decided take out, because we are lazy and I was pretty much exhausted from all the dancing.  Seriously, it’s like a 24 hour club in our house now.  All we need is a disco ball that descends from the ceiling.

Anyway, to cut this a little shorter, Bill goes to open the door and doesn’t realize that Lee has snuck behind the front door and decided that it would be really funny if he stuck his fingers into the crack on the hinge side of the door.  This stopped being really funny around the time Bill went to shut the door.

There was a horrible scream and then a few seconds of shared confusion between Bill and I and then the realization of squished fingers.  Or, as it felt at the time, OMGSQUISHEDFINGERS!!!!  SQUISHEDFINGERSZOMG!!!!

And there were hurt feelings had by all.  And hurt fingers had by two of us, because after Bill left, I managed to squish my pinkie in a damn folding door, but felt too bad about Lee’s squished little fingers to say anything.

After about 5 minutes of rocking and bouncing and talking in high-pitched funny voices and pointing to the tv saying Look!  Look at the tv!  Are they being silly? and making funny noises, the sniffling subsided and I was left with a spent little boy who just wanted to put his head down on my shoulder and suck his non-injured fingers and hold his blankie (with the injured hand, which turned out to be not-at-all injured thankyoujeebus!).

I decided that this was not good enough.  I needed to up the ante and make him laugh.  And so help me God I was going to make my sad little boy laugh if it killed me (which it might have because lately, he thinks that me hurting myself is just downright hysterical).

I don’t remember how it got to this, but I started sticking my tongue out and making pphhhbbbbttt noises and here’s how that went.

And that was the last I heard about hurty-fingers.

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