LJ Idol - Week 31: Things I Didn't Mean
LJ Idol - Week 31: Unexplored Country OR Things I Didn't Mean OR Moving Target
At our house our five year-old son Hunter and I will play a game called "Lickle." Yeah, it's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. A lot like "tickle," but, you know, with licking. (Please don't call Social Services.) I don't remember when or how this started, but it's been going on forever, now. Lickle is never something one gets invited to play, it's just something that happens when one participant thinks it would be funny to walk up and lick the other. Hilarity ensues, no shit. It's a high-stakes game because, you know, no one really wants a big, sloppy tongue on their face or whatever happens to be available. It's totally an ambush game. "Hey, come here for a second. What the heck is-" and BAM! There's a tongue on your neck and it's ON!
Lickle is a terrible game because it's really kind of revolting, but it's also impossible to stop laughing while you play. Especially when we decide to include dawny_darko or tartqueen without their consent. (Their shrieking lips say "no" but their uncontrollable giggles say "yes.") Generally you can only play for a little while before things get too carried away (and saliva-covered), but somehow we keep coming back to it.
Lickle is a very physical game because the stakes are so very high. There's a great deal of running and thrashing about, laughing and shrieking in horror all the while. Frankly he's got an unfair advantage due to his size, he can slip in under my arms sometimes and get my legs or my hands, if I'm not aware that we're playing yet. Basically, there's a lot of me that's right at licking height for him, even more so when I'm sitting, whereas I have to get down low or pick him up.
Injury follows Lickle because a wet tongue lolling out and bouncing around after you will compel you to run into walls or to wrench yourself badly in a desperate attempt to escape. Ankles twist and bodies get bruised. Hands, faces, and testicles get stepped on regularly during the course of Lickle. ("Fortunately" these last are mostly my parts being so abused.)
Mostly the game comes without warning, but Hunter has experimented with psychological warfare as well. One day we were all sitting down to breakfast, enjoying our meals and having a lovely conversation. Hunter turned to look at me and said, "Guess what's going to happen after breakfast, Daddy!"
"I don't know, Bugs. What's going to happen?" I asked, assuming this was some new gambit to try and get us to buy him something or take him somewhere.
"I'll give you a little hint," he said. Before I could be properly charmed by this, his tongue flopped out of his mouth and slobbered all around. His head rolled from side to side while he made a singularly horrible "Mlaugh-lawgh-wlawgh" sound around exaggerated licking motions. To compound and enhance this nightmare, his face was stained with blueberries and his lolling tongue was covered in pancake residue. The remainder of breakfast was a tense affair, filled with uncontrollable giggling. I ate very slowly
Accidents happen, I know, but a little over a year ago I sent my son to the Emergency Room from a game of Lickle and I can still clearly see and hear what happened.
We'd been running all about playing and I was getting tired. I fell into the couch and tried to fend him and his tongue off from there. He would approach and I would reach out and lift him to me, holding him immobile while I licked his face or his arms or his tummy or his back and then let him go. Each time I put him down he would just come at me again and we were both out of breath from running and laughing.
He came after me again with his arms and tongue outstretched. I grabbed his wrists and pulled him to me, but this time his socks slipped on the floor and his feet shot out from under him. It all happened so fast, I was still in motion; I didn't have time to stop. Maybe I was trying to pull him back to his feet. In any case, his legs slid under the couch right up to the knees just as I pulled him straight up by the arms.
The sounds his knees made and the look in his eyes have literally haunted me to this day. I can hear the grinding, crunching pops of both of his knees bending too far the wrong way. I can see his eyes turning from bright laughing love to confusion and pain before he shut them and started howling.
I was beside myself.
His knees swelled up and turned bright red immediately and he wasn't able to stand at all. He just kept crying and howling in pain. I kept holding him and trying to block out everything, trying to somehow draw the injury from him and take it myself.
We rushed him to the hospital immediately. He regained his composure faster than I did, I was still crying when I told the doctors what I had done. They looked him over and gave him a series of X-Rays. Over the course of the two or three hours it took to be seen and examined, the swelling went down and he got better and by the time we had X-Rays done he was able to stand up again on his own. By then we were pretty sure he was going to be fine, but... damn.
It was one of the most horrible things I've ever been a part of. The difference between one of the best and one of the worst days was so sudden, and the echoes have lasted so long. He still brings it up, from time to time. He holds onto everything. He doesn't seem to mention it to blame me or to twist the knife, it's just one of a million memories and every now and then it comes to the surface.
"Hey Dad. Do you remember the time we were playing Lickle and you hurt my legs."
"I sure do, pal. I'm really sorry about that. You know that was an accident, right?"
"It's ok. I was just thinking about it is all..."
At our house our five year-old son Hunter and I will play a game called "Lickle." Yeah, it's pretty much exactly what it sounds like. A lot like "tickle," but, you know, with licking. (Please don't call Social Services.) I don't remember when or how this started, but it's been going on forever, now. Lickle is never something one gets invited to play, it's just something that happens when one participant thinks it would be funny to walk up and lick the other. Hilarity ensues, no shit. It's a high-stakes game because, you know, no one really wants a big, sloppy tongue on their face or whatever happens to be available. It's totally an ambush game. "Hey, come here for a second. What the heck is-" and BAM! There's a tongue on your neck and it's ON!
Lickle is a terrible game because it's really kind of revolting, but it's also impossible to stop laughing while you play. Especially when we decide to include dawny_darko or tartqueen without their consent. (Their shrieking lips say "no" but their uncontrollable giggles say "yes.") Generally you can only play for a little while before things get too carried away (and saliva-covered), but somehow we keep coming back to it.
Lickle is a very physical game because the stakes are so very high. There's a great deal of running and thrashing about, laughing and shrieking in horror all the while. Frankly he's got an unfair advantage due to his size, he can slip in under my arms sometimes and get my legs or my hands, if I'm not aware that we're playing yet. Basically, there's a lot of me that's right at licking height for him, even more so when I'm sitting, whereas I have to get down low or pick him up.
Injury follows Lickle because a wet tongue lolling out and bouncing around after you will compel you to run into walls or to wrench yourself badly in a desperate attempt to escape. Ankles twist and bodies get bruised. Hands, faces, and testicles get stepped on regularly during the course of Lickle. ("Fortunately" these last are mostly my parts being so abused.)
Mostly the game comes without warning, but Hunter has experimented with psychological warfare as well. One day we were all sitting down to breakfast, enjoying our meals and having a lovely conversation. Hunter turned to look at me and said, "Guess what's going to happen after breakfast, Daddy!"
"I don't know, Bugs. What's going to happen?" I asked, assuming this was some new gambit to try and get us to buy him something or take him somewhere.
"I'll give you a little hint," he said. Before I could be properly charmed by this, his tongue flopped out of his mouth and slobbered all around. His head rolled from side to side while he made a singularly horrible "Mlaugh-lawgh-wlawgh" sound around exaggerated licking motions. To compound and enhance this nightmare, his face was stained with blueberries and his lolling tongue was covered in pancake residue. The remainder of breakfast was a tense affair, filled with uncontrollable giggling. I ate very slowly
Accidents happen, I know, but a little over a year ago I sent my son to the Emergency Room from a game of Lickle and I can still clearly see and hear what happened.
We'd been running all about playing and I was getting tired. I fell into the couch and tried to fend him and his tongue off from there. He would approach and I would reach out and lift him to me, holding him immobile while I licked his face or his arms or his tummy or his back and then let him go. Each time I put him down he would just come at me again and we were both out of breath from running and laughing.
He came after me again with his arms and tongue outstretched. I grabbed his wrists and pulled him to me, but this time his socks slipped on the floor and his feet shot out from under him. It all happened so fast, I was still in motion; I didn't have time to stop. Maybe I was trying to pull him back to his feet. In any case, his legs slid under the couch right up to the knees just as I pulled him straight up by the arms.
The sounds his knees made and the look in his eyes have literally haunted me to this day. I can hear the grinding, crunching pops of both of his knees bending too far the wrong way. I can see his eyes turning from bright laughing love to confusion and pain before he shut them and started howling.
I was beside myself.
His knees swelled up and turned bright red immediately and he wasn't able to stand at all. He just kept crying and howling in pain. I kept holding him and trying to block out everything, trying to somehow draw the injury from him and take it myself.
We rushed him to the hospital immediately. He regained his composure faster than I did, I was still crying when I told the doctors what I had done. They looked him over and gave him a series of X-Rays. Over the course of the two or three hours it took to be seen and examined, the swelling went down and he got better and by the time we had X-Rays done he was able to stand up again on his own. By then we were pretty sure he was going to be fine, but... damn.
It was one of the most horrible things I've ever been a part of. The difference between one of the best and one of the worst days was so sudden, and the echoes have lasted so long. He still brings it up, from time to time. He holds onto everything. He doesn't seem to mention it to blame me or to twist the knife, it's just one of a million memories and every now and then it comes to the surface.
"Hey Dad. Do you remember the time we were playing Lickle and you hurt my legs."
"I sure do, pal. I'm really sorry about that. You know that was an accident, right?"
"It's ok. I was just thinking about it is all..."