Yesterday, Peter sat at the table eating breakfast or lunch, playing with his vitamin cup. It's metal and about an inch and a half wide at the top - I think most people use it as a condiment cup. He puts it on his mouth and sucks in to make it stick. I see him doing it once or twice but I don't think it's a big deal. When I get back to the table, he's got a huge triangular dark area between his bottom lip and his chin. I must have asked him to go wash it off two or three times. It didn't make a difference. I finally look close enough and it seems he gave himself a hickey with the condiment cup. It's better today, but all of yesterday and most of today, he looked like a sad vampire. I had to ask him a couple extra times if he was feeling ok because the dark, puffy part on the side of his mouth made his mouth look so sad.
Then today, we had to get out of the house early to get Grady to preschool and Peter to school. I'm rushing around getting breakfast, packing Peter's lunch and getting the boys' teeth brushed. As I'm trying to brush Grady's teeth, we have the following conversation:Grady: What if you got sliced on your shirt.
Me: That would be sad.
Grady: What if all of you got sliced.
Me: That would be messy.
Grady: Then we'd need a new Mama. <think, think> It's a good thing we have Mama Bear.
I'm glad everything is worked out in case I get killed, Mama Bear will be able to take my place.
Later, as we got out of the car at gymnastics, Grady slammed his finger in the door of the car. He got his thumb and scraped his cuticle. He cried for a while and we got a bandaid. When we got home, he was doing ok but was worried about having to take the bandaid off and shower with his hurt finger. I told him that I'd help him cut the bandaid off but somehow he pulled it off while I was out of the room and was just screaming when I came back. I understood it hurt but he also just kept crying because he can't stand knowing there's blood from him somewhere it's not supposed to be. Plus it's very hard to take someone seriously who is screaming but has a rubber band, headband thing on his head complete with tag hanging off the side. We got him all patched up with a new bandaid after his shower and I found a huge scrape on his leg that he says he got at preschool too. It's just not his day.
And as an added bonus, the parts I remember from another conversation with Grady from earlier last week:
<As we're leaving the FedEx drop off store, there's a truck stopped lengthwise halfway across the driveway>
Mama: I'm going to stay far away from that truck in case it backs up.
Grandma: Oooo, if it does back up, it would get me first.
Grady: It wouldn't get me because I'm in the back. But it might squish both of you because you're in the front. If it did that I would cry because I'd be alone.
Grandma: Why would you be alone?
Grady: <eyeroll> Because Papa and Peter aren't here and I don't know how to get to them.
Grandma: Why couldn't you get to them?
Grady: <another eyeroll> Because I can't drive.
I don't think Grandma initially got that he was talking about the two of us being dead. And I think he was also able to work in another comment about Mama Bear (something like "at least I'd still have a Mama because I have Mama Bear").
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