They say most accidents occur at home. To be technical, they begin at conception. From there on out accidents accumulate like lice on a turkey farm.
There was the time my son accidentally slit his sister’s eyelid open with a pair of scissors, missing her actual eyeball but necessitating an emergency trip to the hospital where she had a plastic surgeon fix the damage with extraordinary precision and expertise.
Then there was the time my daughter decided to place her foot in the path of the mower and my husband decided to remain oblivious to that fact by running over it. Another trip to the emergency room. This time only minor damage. Most of the toe remains intact. No surgeon necessary. Luckily she was wearing tennis shoes made in China. I’m pretty sure the amount of lead involved saved her toe from complete destruction.
You get the picture.
Threaded throughout actual emergency accidents were:
Hundreds of broken things: glasses, crockery, windows, doorknobs, doors, and screens.
Thousands of spills: pop, juice, milk, soup, etc.
Many, many bruised heads, elbows, knees, chins, and egos.
And multiple times when someone couldn’t quite make it to the bathroom to throw up.
Accidents of life.
Or as I like to call them—children. It’s how we know we’re alive.
Some people are blessed with abundant hair, a high IQ, wealth, or the ability to touch their nose with their tongue. Others are blessed with children. You decide which is preferable.
I truly believe the little blessings are a gift from God, sent with a smile and a wink. After all, he calls them arrows in the Bible and says we should have a quiver full. As anyone with children knows, a weapon in the house is never a good idea. Arrows flying hither and yon will definitely lead to accidents. Someone will surely get their eye put out.