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May 6, 2013 - Jennifer Brookens
"Oh my GOD!" my husband exclaimed as I lowered the ice pack from my nose. "It's all purple!"
Once again, I am the victim of an assault from a five-year-old. And this time, I knew it was truly an accident.
It was a lazy Sunday morning, and we were the first two up. After breakfast, he started pretending he was a fish and was swimming in a blue sheet that looked like the ocean. I was charmed by him using his imagination, as he usually doesn't engage in pretend play. So when he said, "Come swim in the bowl with me, Mommy fishy," I found myself ducking under his sheet and "swimming" in the fish bowl with him. It was a rare, bonding moment; no jealous sibling antics, no thinking about other things that had to be done. With all the times I find myself fighting with him or struggling to understand him, I finally felt like I was being a good mommy to him. I leaned in to give him a kiss on top of his head... and he reared back, clocking right on the bridge of the nose again.
I heard a loud crack and I was blinded by the pain. I didn't scream at him (like I have when he's injured me by being too wild) but edged my way out to the ice pack and ibuprofen, with him following me and begging me to come back. Cue Daddy walking in to see The Boy jumping around to get my attention, and me in silent tears with the ice pack on my face.
"Did you do that to Mommy," my husband scolded, used to The Boy causing physical damage.
"No, it was an honest accident this time," I choke out before heading to the bathroom to see just how bad it was.
Fortunately, I got to the ice pack and ibuprofen quick enough that within half an hour I just looked like I needed a better night's sleep. But I still feel it when I try to wear my glasses. Once again, love hurts.
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