I was on the phone with my mom the other day, when I heard the loudest crash I've heard in a long time, followed by an almost inhuman scream. I had to cut my mom off mid-sentence, which almost never happens just because a kid of mine got hurt. They get hurt all the time. If I stopped my life every time one of them gets hurt, I may as well do nothing other than follow them around with a box of Band-Aids and a cold compress. But this one sounded like a possible emergency, so I ran upstairs.
When I got to the bathroom, this is what I found:
The soap dispenser on its side.
Dirty footprints on the sink.
Zack lying on the floor, completely naked.
Immediately I had a red alarm-type light start flashing in my head, saying "Blog! Blog! Blog!" And as soon as I assessed the damage - no blood, no broken bones, one gigantic goose-egg smack on the bottom of his chin - I actually had to stop myself from laughing. Not that anyone could have heard me laughing over the screaming that was going on (Side note: parents, would you agree that bathrooms have to be the worst place for a child to scream? The echoing noise in that room will be the reason I need a hearing aid by forty.)
So, yes, judge me if you will, but I was honestly ready to laugh at the scene I saw. Putting the picture together pre-crash, here's what it looks like:
Zack probably had to go to the bathroom. Once in there, he decides, for some unknown reason, to take off all of his clothes. At 11:00 in the morning. Naked, he then makes the brilliant decision to climb onto the sink, most likely so that he could see himself in the large mirror. Then he does something crazy, maybe the Macarena or jumping jacks knowing this kid, and slips off of the counter, cracking his chin on the edge on his way to the floor. And that's where I found him, lying there, naked and screaming.
I had to get my camera. But don't worry, I made him get dressed before I took any pictures.
Here's his chin, immediately following the incident:
And here's him with his all-natural, homeopathic cure-all for any ill, the Band-Aid. Buy stock in that company, folks. You heard it here first.
And one more, a day later when his chin is a lovely shade of dark purple. Ryan calls him Bluebeard the Pirate.
So now you know what it takes to get me off the phone with my mom, a potentially horrible accident that turns out to be not only minor, but also a photo op, with a side order of embarrassing story to tell at his wedding. Oh yeah, this was a good day.