<HONEA EXPRESS: Shake Your Nuts & Let It Bleed

It finally happened. Honea Express has moved to greener pastures, or possibly just out to pasture -- you make the call.

You should be automatically redirected in 6 seconds. If not, visit
Please pardon the dust and update your feed readers accordingly. Thank you - Whit

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

Shake Your Nuts & Let It Bleed

Yesterday Thing 1 got his head slammed in the refrigerator by Thing 2. I think it was on purpose. BOYHOOD ON!

Needless to say it looks like Atticus took a jab to the eye which means my current life as a hermit is going to save me a lot of dirty looks and possible prison time.

This morning I was sitting at the laptop and doing more work for missing checks when I heard a scream. I hate to admit that I hear screams fairly often through the day and they don't cause the fear and reaction they once did. Basically I ignore them.

If they proceed for a period of time I might yell out, "Leave your brother alone!" and one or both of them will emerge from whatever mischief they were inducing with a look of such sweet innocence that I almost think I imagined the whole thing. People point fingers, lies are told.

Back to this morning- I hear the screams. I don't flinch. I sip my cold coffee, take a bite of my toaster strudel and glance down the hallway. I see the shadow of a crying baby walking towards me in full zombie mode. Just as I'm about to yell for the culprit to show himself my wife comes out of the bathroom and screams that he's bleeding.

We see lots of stuff around these parts, but seldom is blood drawn. I scooped him up and looked at his bloody nose. I followed his path back to the open bedroom door and found an innocent big brother.

He pleaded his case and cited the evidence:

a) the bed is very bouncy
b) the comforter that had been stretched from the foot of the bed to the dresser did look quite solid
c) the blood on said comforter (white) was obviously created by contact from the chair beneath it and not the hands of an attacker

His case was passionate and compelling, bringing up visions of his namesake. I made him stand against the wall.

How can you tell if a baby has a broken nose? It bled, it is swollen, but when I poke at it he doesn't seem fazed. I'm going with the school of 'rub some dirt on it' and calling it a day.

Is it wrong that I look at his now swollen nose and hope my boys don't turn into the Wilson brothers? He looks like he should be on Riptide.

Then there is the talker.


This conversation was followed immediately with one about his lunch and the fact that it included meatballs. Guess where that went.

Labels: , ,