I love our fenced backyard. It’s a regulation-size chicken coop for twins. Open the patio door, send them out, and pour a glass of wine make a cup of tea. Sometimes I look out the window; usually I tweet. When I’m vying for Parent-of-the-Year, I’ll crack open a screen door to add an extra sensory dimension.
One nice fall day, I sent William and Vivian outside so I could read an entire article in the newspaper, something I haven’t accomplished since the Olympics were in Athens. I think I was three-quarters through the story when I heard a shrill, trip-to-emergency scream. Three Dash-like bounds later, I located the yeller. It was Vivian.
I sat my butt on the grass and dragged her onto my lap. Between shrieks, I managed to hear, “William…croquet…hit…head.”
I looked up and saw William kicking tufts of grass. He had yet to flee the crime scene.
It was at that point I said these words:
After administering basic First Aid, which involved placing a band-aid on Vivian’s hair, I interrogated the suspect and the victim.
From confessions and evidence, I believe Vivian taunted William, who reacted by throwing a croquet mallet in the air. Vivian’s head got in the way of gravity.
No blood, no concussion, and no more croquet. But with winter on its way, the hockey sticks will soon be out. One word: duck.
It’s Whiteboard Wednesday, so I have to ask:
Are there any wacky things you’ve said, heard, or witnessed recently?