The Crisis

I forgot to write about the crisis that happened on Saturday while I was at the tournament.

After I realized that there would not be a large crowd at the tournament, I went to the office to call my family and see if the guys wanted to come down and compete. But a crisis was occurring.

Robbie had broken his favorite plastic sword and, while trying to repair it with duct tape, he cut his finger with my sewing scissors. Apparently, there was lots of blood and crying. Bruce was handling it calmly, or at least that's what it seemed like from the conversation. No emergency room visit was necessary.

Bruce told me later that this all happened not 5 minutes after I'd left for the tournament. "You were probably driving up 19th street when he cut himself."

When I got home later that afternoon, there still was blood all over! There were drops of blood on the curtains at the top of the stairs and on the tiles in the shower and on the wall going upstairs. I asked Robbie--who seemed to have recovered completely--if he was waving his hand around while it was bleeding, or if, perhaps, there had been blood spurting out, like in that Monty Python sketch with the Black Knight ("It's only a flesh wound").

He told me to stop laughing.

I'm glad I was NOT there at the time.