new playmate is wooden…

I’m working at a house, trying to get as much done as possible in my remaining hour. Phone rings; it’s third son’s school. They tell me he’s in the nurses office and can I come get him please.
“sure,” I say, “but I’m working in Marietta, so its going to be a while. What happened?”
“well, it seems he ran into a tree… he’s pretty banged up – his face is scraped, his knees are taped -”
“wait, what?” I sputter, “how do you run INTO a tree?”
“I don’t know” comes the reply.
“They’re pretty hard to miss!” I say, “what the hey happened?!”
“I don’t know,” says Mr. Intellectual Giant, “but you need to come get him. We can let him sit in the nurses office but he needs to go home”
“ah, okay… I’ll be there as soon as I can”

beg off the last of the work, hop in car, race down the highway, walk into school office. Son number three comes out.
Boy, is he banged up. Scrapes all down one side of his face, bandaged knees, swollen wrist, two large lumps on forehead, nearly blackened eye – it’s not pretty.

take kid home. slap benzocained cream on scrapes, park kid on couch with ice pack, administer cheddar goldfish.
Baph comes home, having been told about injuries. He looks at third son and exclaims “wow! how did you do that?”
third son replies, “I runneded into a tree from da habitat house. I wasn’t looking at from the house and I just runneded into the tree”
“yeah but,” says Baph, “did you do that yourself?”
“no,” says son, “I was playing tag and I gotted tagged first so I had to run behind me to tag ____ and I didn’t look for the tree before I runnded into it”
“yeah but [third son], couldn’t you see it?”
“yeah,” he says,” but I was running for tag and instead I just runneded into the tree. I didn’t tag anybody”

my guess is that probably ended the game: trees don’t play tag so good.

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