The badminton tourney had the championship match this afternoon. They were tied up 10-10 win the Lil’wrekker landed the winning volley. A brief argument over boundaries and the referee(me) stepped in and called the birdie ‘in bounds’
Really I said "shut up"and ended it.
Today has been boo-boo day for me. I was walking the dogs and came upon a bramble bush across my path. I stepped over it easily. Lost focus and dragged my back foot over it. My ankle looks like a tiger tried to grab my leg. In fact I told the Grandwrex that’s exactly what happened. I reached up to open the cupboard to get some ointment and bumped my head on the door. I have a bump about halfway back to the crown of my head.
I’m afraid, I cursed, I said…"G '%#@mn, Mother-##&+:;@g, door. Right in the presence of 8 little ears.
I explained to them it wasn’t really curse-words just sentence enhancers heard that on Spongebob.
I went out on the deck to sit and think about the horrible examble I set for those innocent babes.
Something whacked me right in the forehead. I slapped my forehead and something stung me. A wasp, murder hornet, venomous hummingbird, I don’t know. I just know it hurt. I ran in to get ice to put on it. Leaned down to get ice from the maker came up and re-bumped my previously bumped head on the same cupboard door.
Another, longer stream of horrible words. I looked over and saw 4 faces sitting at the island eating pudding. They were aghast.
I once again told a lie. I said they weren’t bad words. But they should never use them, outside the house. Ever.
They run upstairs to play Lego. Son-of-a-wrek’s vast collection of Lego has be revived to live through another generation of kids. I’m so happy.
I decide I’ll lay down awhile seeing I wasn’t gonna get any sympathy from the peanut gallery.
I walk by the door where the kids are playing and I heard the baby, 3yo spill out: "Muvver twuck, nam-nam Wego. I said her name loudly. She said “Sorwy, I stepped on a nam-nam Wego. It hurted”
I had no argument to that logic.
I went to lay on my bed in the dark and nurse my boo-boos and lament this ‘cursed’ Saturday, at the Wrek estates.
Awww, so sorry, Beck. Hope tomorrow’s a less-brutal day.
I got the obligatory chewing out by the Mothers of these angels.
I promised to refrain from cursing in my own house to inanimate objects.
They forgot how much they cursed at each other during the badminton tournament. Regular sailor mouths, all of them.
My sting on my forehead is huge and red and throbbing. I told the Grandwrex I was growing a unicorn horn.
I’ll get chewed out for lying to them soon. It’s not like I told them Santa Claus was real or something.
Geez!
I was gonna warn you to be sure to watch out for errant Legos when you get out of bed in the morning but obviously have already been given that warning by your younger but wiser wrekkers. My toes curled in pained anticipatory sympathy for your arches. Those Legos hurt like a !@%&4#X!#%]+^%€£&#?¥! And then some.
May you have a much, much gentler day tomorrow. Pain-relief Neosporin is your friend, apply externally. Adult beverage is your friend, apply internally and repeat as needed. Don’t let the l’il wrekkers watch that last one.
Boo 
I do know the extreme pain of stepping on Lego.
I claimed I couldn’t find the big box of Lego for a good month. I finally ‘found’ them.
They are a clever toy to keep younguns entertained and off their devices.
But, dang they hurt.
Not being able to ‘find’ them is a good tactic. I’m going to remember that one.
Up til now I’ve gotten away with putting my sons’ stash (two footlockers worth) in the basement. Granted, the younger of those sons is now nearly 31 but I’ve have been hanging on to them for grand-babies, so I’d be their favorite grandma. Now son #2 is saying “don’t give them to Hattie (his only niece) until I go through them”. Sheesh. He hasn’t touched them for 20 years. Boys and their toys. Anyhow, I will never forget how much a lego hurts to step on and it always happens in the dark on the way to the bathroom. A lot of bad things happen to me on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Legos and cat barf. Then there is tripping on the coffee table. For the middle 60 sixty years of my life I could get through the night continent. Now, not so much. Sigh…
Boo
I always said they hurt twice, once at the check out and once on the floor in the middle of the night.
The reason I still have them is because I recall every dollar I spent on them.
I thought I had successfully kept the Grandwrex out of them until that blasted show came on about Lego masters.
Another reason to hate the Fox network, right there.
My thoughts exactly. Truer words have never been spoken
Don’t need any more reasons. Not possible to hate them more than I already do.
Well, BOO, we think alike.
(Boo was the pet name my Daddy called me, well before the new use it is today, as in Becky boo, Beckdawrek or just big klutz.)
Apropos, don’t ya think?
I’m really sorry that you had such a painful day but I have to admit that your story did make me giggle. I’m prone to uh, accidents as well and it’s nice to know I’m not the only one.
Get in line behind me. I’ll match you scar for scar and raise you countless broken toes:adhesive_bandage:
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