Monitoring Daddy's Wellness

On Sunday afternoon, I gave the children the option of some kind of little outing - to a playground, for example - or staying home, and to my pleasant surprise, they actually preferred playing at home. (It's like the story I keep telling of Amy's cousins, who would take their children away from their home in New Jersey for a wholesome beach-centered vacation in Martha's Vineyard every summer, and when they actually asked their children where they preferred to be, they indicated the New Jersey homestead...)

So they were pulling each other in wagons in the driveway, and I pulled them for awhile, and Daniel, with his wondrous genius-for-the-counterparadigm took all the wagons and wheeled vehicles (of the "Big Wheels" variety), and lumped them into a hulking heap at the edge of the front yard and announced the creation of a junkyard. (How many children would actually work in the opposite direction, trying to create a fleet of viable vehicles out of a heap, rather than appreciating the creative beauty of the junkyard in its own right?...)

But at one point as I was pulling the wagon, Daniel noticed a cut on one of my knuckles - one I hadn't actually noticed myself, and wanted to look at it. I showed it to him - no big deal, really, already scabbed over... and Daniel said something I wasn't expecting:

"Oh, yeah. We 'better get rid of that."

(April 10, 2011)