Kids say the...

Thurs night, I cut my left thumb... a nasty cut. With a knife, while cooking. I'll spare the details. Ended up with butterfly stitches and a tentus shot. The later hurt worse.

It's a nasty cut...almost goes around the whole thumb. So I'm favoring it a bit.

Friday night, William stayed with me. I was in my room, reading when he came in and sat on the edge of my bed. He said, "We need to talk, Sherrie."

He drops the "Aunt" title when he feels we're on the same level.

I lowered my book. "About what?" I asked.

He solemnly stared at me for a moment, and then said, "Knives."

"Oh? What about them?"

"They're sharp," he said.

"I know," I said, lifting my bandaged thumb.

"They aren't toys. So don't play with them," he advised.

I said, "I wasn't playing with a knife. I was trying to cook."

He said, "Don't. Let Nana cook. You find a good book to read."

(I tell him to find a good book to read when he gets in my way in the kitchen--funny how the things you say to kids can come back to haunt you.)