ding ding ding

Round One went to Gumby. During a running through the house fight with Surfer Dude, he slammed the Dutch door between the dining room and the kitchen on SD's arm, catching it so completely that twenty four hours later SD's arm is still black and blue.


Round Two went to Surfer Dude. While outside at dusk playing a kind of makeshift baseball with a big stick and a tennis ball, he hit Gumby in the eye so hard with a line drive (forehand??) that Gumby came in the house with a swollen shut eye tearing copiously.


Round Three went to the school nurse who got to call me this morning and ask me if I'd noticed that Gumby's pupils were two completely different sizes, and if I didn't think, with all my ER experience, that a doctor's visit would be a good idea.


Round Four went to our doctor who kept us waiting an hour to see him.


Round Five went to the pharmacy, which screwed up his prescription for eye drops so badly that it took two pharmacies, six people and roughly twenty phone calls to straighten out.


The only conceivable winner in any of this was my mother, who avoided my waterworks dropping her off at the airport because I had a kid in the backseat that I had to race to a doctor's appointment. And I know she didn't win, because she had to then wait hours to find out that Gumby's problem was just a pupillary reaction to getting the hell banged out of his eye, and not a concussion or worse.


We really do keep our visitors entertained, as you can see. She had woken up that morning to the startling sound of a Surfer Dude fart so loud, so resounding, that one room over we both started laughing - from a dead sleep. When we say Technical Knock Out in my house, we aren't talking about boxing.