“MOMMY!!!!!!! You know that little pink ball I found at the park? It just exploded EVERYWHERE!”
I am nursing a four-day-old: I can’t exactly spring up and rush to the scene of this alleged explosion. Scott hears and comes thundering. Even more alarming than Rose’s outcry is my husband’s quiet “Ohhhh no.”
Seems that little pink ball was a paintball.
Fortunately, the explosion—and an explosion it was indeed—occurred in the bathroom. Rose had just finished washing her newfound treasure and was drying it with the hand towel.
I keep having little flashes of what might have been (the sofa, the carpet, the drapes, the children). Scott will see me shudder and know at a glance what I’m thinking.
“I know,” he’ll say. “Suppose it had happened in the car?”
Talk about dodging a (little pink) bullet.
Now that everyone’s okay, I hope you had a great laugh.
‘Cause that’s just funny.
Too funny! Glad it didn’t get everywhere!
Just found your blog, and also wanted to say I love your books!
Oh no is right! Girls have a hard time resisting pink. My daughter collects the hot pink rocks by the curb that have been spray painted by the road construction crew. Those rocks are one of her favorite treasures.
Should we feel guilty that we thought of the sofa, the carpet, and the drapes before the children? 🙂 (And I do mean “we” … those were my first thoughts, too.) 😉
Yipes! Close call. Glad you avoided the worst. And of course you thought of the home before the child — it was just a paint ball, not a grenade.
I’ve only been reading your blog for a little while, but I’ve liked it so much that I added a link to it on mine.