My darling Marcie frequently pursues me with the same goal in mind. She also delights in dumping ice down the back of my pants—I can’t stand ice against my skin. I’m 64, by the way, and she is-----well, some years younger.
It certainly would explain a lot . . .
I did EXACTLY the same thing. I wasn’t thrown into the wall, but my daughter, then three, was nearby and she said, “Ooh, Mommy, your hair went like THIS!” I have also poured boiling water UP my arm (you hadda be there) and run a steak knife through the palm of my hand. More in tune with the OP, however, I dislocated my index finger during an argument. I was ticked off, and I had a point to make (hur!) and I stabbed down into the table with my finger - hard enough to make said finger relocate to the back of my hand.
Most of my klutzy accidents have been helped along by my pets, though. One of my big dogs sidled up behind me unnoticed, I turned, and launched myself arse-over-tip into a wall. Another dog refused to retrieve a Frisbee, so I bent down to pick it up and he suddenly decided to help - he had a boney Doberman head, and hit me on the upper part of my cheekbone. The WryGuy made me stay home from work until the black eye went away; he was afraid no one would believe the DOG had given me the unjury. And then just recently I foolishly stepped over a sleeping Mastiff, who woke up, stood and stretched and sent me flying.
On the other hand, it was the WryGuy who managed to break his rib bathing an uncooperative dog.
Aieeeee! I was fine with the rest of the thread, but that really made me grimace :eek: