Stream of Consciousness DayPosted: June 12, 2008 Filed under: Day-to-Day, family | Tags: Canada, imported, minor injuries, playground Leave a comment
The other day I served these wheat crackers at a party we had for J’s birthday. Today I was moving things around in the pantry, and I noticed there was a note on the front of the box of crackers claiming they are “IMPORTED.” So, I thought, is that really necessary? To import wheat crackers into the U.S.? We grow wheat, in fact, farming wheat is a huge part of “our thing.” Amber waves of grain and such. What could be so great about imported wheat? I decided to investigate further. Turns out the crackers were made in Canada. Canada? Really? That’s not imported. From Canada should not count as imported. Also turned out that the crackers are actually made by Kraft Foods. Again, shouldn’t count as imported. It’s like claiming Welch’s Grape juice is imported. Stupid.
In any case, T3 says they tasted “like dog.”
Speaking of T3, he took another couple of weeks off my life today. We went to the library, and they have a little playground there, so we hung out for a while after getting our books and stuff. There were these two other boys there, and the four of them got right along, running and climbing and doing boy stuff. Super nice kids, very friendly and sweet, even to Ee, who kept trying to keep up with the four of them. I sat in the shade on a bench, and every so often they would congregate around me, quizzing me on different aspects of life. The other boys were quite nimble, more nimble than my own, who tried, but could only watch them in amazement. The other boys were climbing to the top of the equipment, doing flips and things like something out of Cirque de Soleil. These are girls, but you kind of get the idea.
So, they were all around me, and we were having a nice little chat, though T3 was still bouncing around on the bench and stuff. All of a sudden, I saw him lose his grip, and BAM! Darned if he didn’t smack his mouth right on the back of the metal bench, slamming all of his weight on his lower jaw. He immediately started to cry, which is not his usual MO. He came over to me and opened his mouth, and I couldn’t see his teeth for the blood. I ran to my car and grabbed a handful of tissues, stanching the blood as best I could, then collected everyone in order to rush home quickly to the ice pack. It stopped bleeding soon after we got home, and luckily it seems like only one tooth is maybe a little loose, but overall, major disaster averted.
Still, this is how I feel a lot of the time: