Yesterday was an interesting day. SpiderMan has a bad habit of slamming doors all the time. He does it when he's angry, he does it when he's happy, he is just a door slammer. When I was a kid, I was a door slammer as well, so I know the joy of slamming doors.
My mama solved the door slamming issue by making me open and close a door a hundred times, gently. I keep thinking I will issue this punishment to SpiderMan, but somehow have never gotten around to it.
By yesterday, it was too late. Yesterday afternoon while I was working, I heard the bathroom door slam and suddenly, shrieks of pain. I ran to the hallway and there stood SpiderMan, holding his fingers and crying. He had slammed his fingers in the door. Wonderful mother that I am, I blurted out, "That's why you shouldn't slam doors!"
Then I got him a wet washcloth (solves all problems, I have found) and some ice (solves any problems wet washcloths don't). Spidey sat on the couch and watched some Jakers! and felt much better. Crisis solved.
Later, when Flip got home, he took the dog out wandering through our vast estates and found something interesting. He came back in and told me to go look in the backyard. I walked out the back door, and Spidey started to come out too. Flip told him not to come out, and slammed the door. On SpiderMan's fingers.
"Imsorryimsorryimsorry," Flip said, upset that he had hurt his brother. Then the blood came spurting out. "HE'S BLEEDING!" Flip shrieked. My kitchen was beginning to look like a crime scene.
Some people are good in a crisis. They stay calm, and organize things, and deal with the crisis. Other people run around like chickens with their heads cut off, panicking and accomplishing nothing. I am neither of these. Crisis situations startle me into complete inaction. I have to take a few minutes for the situation to sink in, make a plan, and then handle it. Sometimes this is a good thing, but sometimes it's a bad thing.
Fortunately last night it wasn't a bad thing. Flip is a chicken with his head cut off crisis handler, so he started running around, gathering wet washcloths and grabbing the phone. "I'll call 911," he said. By this time, I had figured out that although blood was spurting everywhere, there were no bones poking out, SpiderMan's finger wasn't cut off, and SpiderMan was probably not going to bleed to death. I grabbed the washcloth and told Flip and HelloKitty to get their shoes on, applying pressure to his fingernail, which was the source of all the blood.
We rushed to the hospital. I drove, Flip called Mr. Ivy and asked him to meet us at the hospital. Mr. Ivy couldn't get out of work, so he called my dad who came and picked up Flip and HelloKitty.
Fingers do not fare well in my household. At this exact moment, Flip has a splint on his finger because he broke his finger while playing...wait for it...Nerf football. Long and willowy fingers run in my family. I have spent half my life fielding questions from people like, "Do you play the guitar? You have perfect fingers for the guitar." (While my fingers might be great for playing the guitar, my total lack of coordination precludes that particular hobby) And Flip inherited those same fingers.
Last year, HelloKitty managed to slam her own fingers in the car door. She inherited that total lack of coordination from me, but escaped a broken finger because she inherited the thick, strong fingers of her dad's side of the family. As I sat in the hospital room waiting for the results from SpiderMan's X ray, I looked at his fingers, hoping the thick, strong fingers he had inherited from his dad were strong enough to keep him from a broken finger.
The nurses had all said it looked broken, but we lucked out. His finger wasn't broken. They told him he would almost undoubtedly lose his fingernail, and SpiderMan was pleased at the thought that his nail would turn black and fall off, grossing out girls from hither to yon.
Today I have written for your viewing pleasure, a trio of Halloween posts. 2 treats and one trick. And, you, Love Shak crew, are the beneficiaries of the trick. See, I already treated the Shakhammerers and the Shakyardites, so someone has to get a trick. 
