My son wanted to trick out his skateboard with blue neon Electroluminescent Ribbon. I mean, who wouldn’t? Sadly, the connector to the power supply disconnected from the ribbon. I hate it when that happens.
While he was studying the contraption to see if or how he could fix it, the wire somehow got away from him and bopped him on his cheek. The electric shock was, well, shocking, to say the least. When one is electrocuted, one’s mind tends to race in the direction of permanent damage to one’s health. My son was no different. After several reassurances, it was time to take a new tactic.
“Is there a red mark or anything on my cheek?” He asks. “It feels weird, like when you go to the dentist and they give you that numbing shot.”
“It’s fine, really. Well, except for that black splotch.” I couldn’t help myself. Really. It just had to be said. Well, he goes off into a just-pushing-the-edge-of-panic state, striding purposefully toward a mirror.
From the hall I hear a disembodied voice, “I really hate you right now, mom.” I’m laughing my tushie off, too dang funny. He laughs with me. “That was mean, mom.”
“Yeah, but you’re not worried anymore, are you.” We laugh about it off and on for another 20 minutes or so.