My son, Will, comes inside the house from the backyard, muttering to himself, only to exit a minute later, still talking to himself.
As this is a common phenomena in our house, I didn’t pay much attention. Muttering and pre-teens are practically synonymous. Plus, as a parent, I’ve learned that ignorance really is bliss sometimes.
Ten minutes later my husband places a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a bag of cotton balls, and a box of Band-aids on the computer desk and questions me, ”Did you know that our son was outside doctoring people?”
“What?” I ask startled.
“Yeah,” he replied, “I asked Will what he was doing with this stuff and he just pointed to a neighborhood kid and said he was trying to ‘treat this boy’s injuries.‘ “
I look at my husband with wide eyes, “I knew letting him check out those books on diabetes and asthma from the library was going to come back to bite me.”
My husband nodded in agreement, “I shouldn’t have let him get his first aid merit badge so soon. That was a mistake.”
As you can see, Gentle Reader, we have a good marriage. We each take partial responsibility for the insane antics our children get up to.
Now, please excuse me, I have to go permanently relieve Dr. Will, Medicine Boy from his healing duties.