Sometimes you have to wonder how things escalate so quickly.
Yesterday, L headbutted his younger brother J (2) on the trampoline. It was no accident. An objective observer could clearly distinguish malice aforethought. I was about halfway through yelling at L and sending him to his room (in fact, he was exactly halfway up the stairs), when his nose started to bleed . While I would like to flatter myself by thinking that my ballings out are so effective that they routinely induce this response in the subject, the truth is that he has been having them a lot recently. I suspect the actual cause is some pretty diligent and consistent picking.
Anyway, a combination of my yelling, L’s banishment from the trampoline and the sight of the blood now pouring from L’s face caused J to transition straight from happy bouncing toddler mode to full on screaming traumatised toddler mode, with none of the usual preamble.
So while I was trying to comfort J – with limited success given my yelling of only a few moments ago – A (the boys’ mother) was doing the old nose-bridge-pinch in the bathroom upstairs. But because of J’s continual screaming and L’s profuse bleeding, we all ended up in the bathroom, hunched over the bloody sink, desperately holding wads of saturated toilet-paper to L’s nostrils.
The situation went south with all the rapidity of Walter White’s first forays into crystal meth production. All I had wanted was closer adherence to the niceties of trampoline health and safety.