After the Other Half left for school last night, I started to notice a certain "fragrance" coming from the kitchen trash. I guess he thinks it's cute to leave pork chop containers in there overnight.
I held my breath and took the bag out to the dumpster. Nice little walk for someone who's bored to death. Once I got there I noticed a cute chubby little boy FLYING down the hill path behind the dumpster on his bike. For a split second, in the back of my mind I thought "damn he's going fast"...but decided to mind my business and head back to the house. As soon as I turned around, I heard a thud then a slide/skid, followed by a little crying/whimper sound. I looked back and all I saw was little boy ass, legs and bike parts.
This kid literally ate shit. He was face first in the dog path and it didn't look good. Part of me figured he'd be fine, hell, he's a tough little boy right?? But then I heard more whimpering from the poor thing. I called down the hill and asked him if he was ok, he shook his head "No"
So here's my dilemma:
Should I turn around and walk off like a mean old bitch?
Should I head down the hill in my "not so sure-footed" flip flops, crack MY head open and we'd both be lying there fucked up?
I asked him if he lived close and if he could try and stand up. He tried, poor thing, a couple of times and finally shook off the stars and birdies flying around his head. He stood up and limped his little bike across the grass and made it across the road.
It was then that I realized I had turned into my mother...because just like her, I couldn't leave well enough alone. I found it neccesary to call after him and say:
"Honey, don't ride your bike right there, it's really dangerous!!"