It's not always difficult at our house. Sometimes it's fun. At one of our infrequent family suppers the other night we got to reminiscing about a funny story that had everybody laughing. I thought I'd share it.
This was about seventeen years ago--Social Hurricane had just started early preschool, Basement Artist would have been in kindergarten, and Graphics Magician wasn't even around yet. We were living in a parsonage in West Virginia, it was a warm sunny Sunday September evening, and I was talking on the phone to my mother.
Abruptly there was this screaming and hollering, and Social Hurricane comes running in the house, bleeding quite a lot from her face.
Basement Artist is right behind her, yelling "I didn't do it! I didn't do it!"
I tell my mother "let me call you back," and hang up on her.
So while Adored Wife is tending to Social Hurricane's hysteria and significant facial abrasions, I try to get the story out of Basement Artist, who is still loudly protesting her own complete innocence in the matter. I persuade her that nobody is blaming her for anything and we just want to know what happened.
What had happened was that the Artist was riding her Big Wheel on one of the church sidewalks and the Hurricane had taken it upon herself to run along behind her pushing. Hurricane's foot got caught in one of the cracks, the Big Wheel kept going, and the Hurricane didn't. She faceplanted on the sidewalk, losing quite a lot of skin in the bargain. This was not atypical of her childhood activities.
The reason I can date the event so precisely in my memory is the next day was, of course, picture day at preschool and Social Hurricane looked like she'd washed her face with sandpaper. We still have the picture.
But it was mostly the Artist's protestations of innocence that had us laughing at supper.
Hope all's well out there, friends, and God bless.
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