Last night, about 9pm (30 full minutes after bedtime) we hear a patter patter patter patter from upstairs. The patter distinctly went into our bedroom. I walked upstairs and there was Bubba with a band-aid. He had a big ole bloody-looking sore on his knee. He said he went and got a band-aid from our bathroom. I asked him how he hurt himself and he said he didn't know. I said it looked like he just did it and asked him how it happened:
- Bubba: "I don't know. I looked down and it was just bleeding."
- Me: "Is it a carpet burn, were you scooting across the carpet?"
- Bubba: "I don't know!!"
- Hubby gets near for a closer look. "This isn't blood. This looks like... paint?"
- I go near for a better look too - "It is paint and it's still a little wet. How did you get red paint on your knee?"
- Bubba: "I don't know... It just got there."
- Me: Come on in the bathroom and I'll clean it off. You don't need a band-aid.
And it had the red one popped open with little finger indentations inside.
MY SON PAINTED HIS KNEE RED TO LOOK LIKE BLOOD SO HE COULD GET A BAND-AID. I'm not sure what I feel? Here are my range of emotions:
- OMG - he's totally into blood!!!
- OMG - We withhold band-aids so much that he needs to fake an injury!!!
- OMG - He wants attention and needs to fake an injury!!!
- OMG - He's a total liar!!! THE LITTLE SHIT!!!
- OMG!!! *LAUGH* *LAUGH* *LAUGH* *LAUGH*
With my feelings toward the latter. I should probably be concerned, but I'm not so much. Man, we are going to have to WATCH this one when he becomes a teenager. I have a bad feeling that we may be in for a long long ride.
1 comment:
Aww, that is quite clever though you have to admit. Could he have just been playing make-believe?
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