Domestic Violence

It shames me to admit that, this weekend, I have been the victim of this.

You know how it goes. You get too close. You don’t give someone enough space. You press the wrong buttons.

Suddenly something gives.

Something snaps.

A sudden quick movement.

Physical contact is made.

You’re left reeling. Shocked. In pain...

There is blood.

After Tom headbutted me he gave me a funny look – a look that said why were you trying to kiss the top of my head when I was playing with my Duplo Police Car anyway? Couldn’t you see I was busy?

He seemed uninjured by the encounter and carried on watching Cbeebies as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile I ran to the kitchen sink and spat the blood from my split lip down the plughole and checked my teeth. Thankfully they were all still there. Just a bit wonky but that’s normal.

Today I have a pout that is both scabby and bruised. I look like I’ve been Botoxed by a scheister.

I’m sure the Scottish contingent of my family will be smiling mawkishly at this story. Ah bless the wee bairn. His first Glasgow Kiss!

Harrumph!

All I can say is, it effing hurt!

However after a quick counselling session Tom and I are fine again. We’ve talked it through using Gestalt therapy techniques and have come up with a relationship work plan which should prevent such acts of violence from ever occurring again...

I’m going to give him a bit more space when he’s playing and Tom... well, Tom, is going to carry on as normal.

Cos he’s just perfect as he is.

Another Slice Anyone?

In a fatigue-induced kitchen-based accident last night yours truly very nearly sliced off the top of his middle finger with a pair of scissors.

I say “very nearly” with a degree of exaggeration.

It’s not like I sliced down to the bone or spray painted the ceiling with a 30ft blood geyser.

But it was messy. And rather stupid.

How did I do it?

Well, I was doing my bit for recycling and was attempting to deconstruct a large cardboard box. As anybody knows a few swipes with the blade of a pair of scissors is great for parting glued or sellotaped edges.

However, not so great when you get your finger caught between the two blades one of which then jams in the cardboard and, the laws of physics being what they are, pulls its companion towards it.

Remarkably there was and still is no pain.

Just a slight numbness but this could be down to the tightness of the plaster expertly administered by my wife as I held my newly grooved digit over the washing up bowl.

Karen thinks there is the possibility that I have severed a nerve (possibly hers) but I fear this sounds far too glamorous to be true.

It’s just a cut.

Received in the battle to save our dying planet.

I’m a bloody hero, me.