Wherein Kong Bleeds.

February 22, 2008 – 9:19 am |

I glanced up the stairs as I flipped pancakes this morning, and saw Kong, who’ll be three in a couple weeks but hasn’t outgrown the nickname he earned two years ago, standing at the top, blood running down his cheeks.

“Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed, running toward him to inspect the damage as chocolate chips smoked to the griddle. “You have blood all over your face!”

I quickly paged through possible causes in my head, casting blame on his siblings, checking out his fingernails, as I wiped superficial streaks of blood away with my papertowel to reveal long pink scratches down both cheeks. “What happened?”

” ’snot blood, mom. It’s my whiskers,” he insisted defiantly, apparently unaware of the bloody streaks.

It took me a minute to interpret the response, but recognition slowly settled in.

“Can you show me what you used to shave your whiskers?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, taking me by the hand.  He led me into my bathroom, opened the drawer and pointed to an old razor.  “I just use daddy’s shaver.”

Perhaps I could just cage him until he’s 30?