Sunday at church I hear a scream!
It's a scream of screams.
I announce that there had better be blood - because I knew exactly which child was screaming.
He likes to scream when he doesn't get his way.
And often, he just likes to scream.
There's no blood - but there is pain.
Apparently he and a friend, a petite young lady of the age of 5, were playing...and there was jumping.
I'm unclear who was jumping where and how. Just that there was jumping.
His mouth met her head.
She looked a bit stunned as she rubbed her head and looked at me. I kissed her head after making sure she was okay. J-man, however was beside himself (neat trick, huh?) ... He showed me his mouth and I announced there was no blood. He cried and wept, "Check my teeth - are they cracked?"
That was a new one.
I looked again. No broken teeth.
He wept as I took him down the hall way to find ice.
He's still positive that his teeth were broken.
I told him, "Sweetie, you didn't hit hard enough to break your teeth, Sweet Girl isn't even crying."
He wailed louder, "BUUUUT I AM!!!"
I laughed. I did.
He's fine, by the way.
It took a great friend to offer to pull his teeth for him to decide that maybe his teeth were fine, after all.