Okay, this is what just happened an hour ago:
OMG, kids can be so damn stupid… I totally understand now what my parents must have felt whenever I did anything dangerous/stupid. Anyway, this girl was over at my house (one of my brother’s friends and close family friend) and she was swinging around a bat inside the house. Let me say first that she’s normally very very smart (any kid who is fascinated by Greek mythology at 9 is smart), but at the same time very active. Anyway, she’s swinging around this bat—not some little toy bat, but an aluminum baseball bat, trying to hit some foam ball. Dangerous? Definitely… and I guess today was just a bad day for fate—(Murphy you bastard—I’m going to kill you…) and WHAM—she hits my bro’s head in full swing. Now this is just what I heard from the stupid witnesses (my other bro and this idiot friend—no really I severely dislike that kid—swearing all the time, acting like an idiot, breaking stuff… and even stole MY money at one point…) but he sort of just flinched, and then comes staggering downstairs to my room after he realizes he’s bleeding. He came down to my room and was trying to open my door (it was locked), until bro 2 (actually making up for his earlier stupidity) helps him up to the bathroom and calls my mom at work. I didn’t know what was going on so I didn’t think too much of it until bro 2 came back down and told me that bro 1 was hurt. When I actually did open the door, I was kind of shocked to see blood all over the outside handle. Maybe it wasn’t all that much but it was a crimson that didn’t belong on doorknobs. I was even more shocked when he told me that bro 1 was hit in the head with a baseball bat and was bleeding. Honestly, how hard do you have to get hit by a BAT—a blunt object to actually draw blood… and enough to get onto a doorknob? I rushed upstairs to find the little crowd of kids around the bathroom—bro 1 leaning against the sink teary eyed, but not really crying, with a crude wet towel dripping reddened water all over the floor and sink. I’m not one inclined to panic, but OBVIOUSLY I was very concerned. He was conscious and well enough to stand so that was a good sign. I told him to take off the towel for a sec—it looked pretty nasty—hair matted by slightly clotted blood—exposed skin freakishly white over a HUGE bump. Literally, that area of his skull was raised maybe half a centimeter. I got him to talk; he told me it hurt… but not a lot (which could have been a bad sign), but at least he was “functional”. I looked back at the crowd, and yelled at them to get away, which they did quickly. But the culprit stuck around, and I yelled at her, “get out of here—you’ve caused enough trouble…” a horrible thing to say—I felt bad even as the words were leaving my mouth. But they all went away, and I needed to focus again on remedying the situation. I felt lightly for any bone damage but besides the bleeding and the bump, there was no obvious damage, and got him to lie down with ice instead of dripping water. Thank God for his hard little head. My mom came soon with smiles of concern and took over the supervision process. (I got a call ten minutes ago—mom saying that’s he’s okay and coming home soon—yay!) I walked out of the room… and (I could almost have expected it) the culprit was sitting on the sofa, crying. I honestly had NO justification in saying what I did. Well yes, she was being stupid by swinging around a bat inside with people around her, but honestly… I’ve done worse. I said what I said almost out of instinct… more like… unconscious memories. What I had said was exactly what one of my old friend’s mom had said eight years ago (coincidentally when I was my brother’s age) when I had caused a certain chaos: me and my friend were playing tag, throwing things around and I threw a long plastic pole downstairs. It caught her right in the mouth, breaking one of her lower teeth! I was freaked out, and didn’t know what to do… I was freaked out… felt bad, but more freaked… I tried to come up with some excuse, (I was so selfish…) I don’t even remember if I said sorry. But I stuck around… she was bleeding from inside her mouth, but was really calm. When her parents came to pick her up, I followed her to the door… and her mom said nearly those exact same words. That memory flashed through my mind as I sat down next to her—knowing what she was feeling.
She was in tears—far more so than my brother. “I’m never coming here again… I don’t want to cause any more trouble… I’m so stupid…” Those were the exact words that were going through my head on that day eight years ago… Granted, a busted head is worse than a broken tooth, but the feelings were the same; my nine-year-old self (still a part of me) knew what she was feeling, and I knew what I needed to tell her… what I didn’t get to hear back when I was in her position. Unlike me though, I didn’t detect a hint of selfishness—she knew she had done wrong, and was willing to take responsibility (even though it frightened her—after fear for my brother, she was scared of what her dad might say).
‘Honorable…’ I thought. We ate dinner in a subdued atmosphere—whether it was because of what had just happened, or an essential member of the table was missing, I couldn’t tell. But a frightening thought did go through my mind. What if my brother did… die? I imagined the table as it was right then, minus a soul… and it was frightening. I closed my eyes, keeping the imagined tears in check; that worked to silence me throughout the dinner—where I stuffed myself full of rice and dry pork. I got that phone call towards the end, and after that, I think everyone was feeling much relieved.
My brother (#2) did a really good job handling the crisis, and I think everyone did what he or she needed to do. My mom and bro just came back from the hospital; he was all smiling and eager to tell me about the big computer brain scanner (aka CAT)—something that I’ve always wanted to get. The doctors said there was no bone damage, and the CT scan results were nominal. It could have turned out worse—he she had hit his face—that could have broken a few delicate bones—but thankfully, thing turned out for the better. I’m glad the culprit (whom I don’t blame at all) got to see him before she left—I’m sure she’ll sleep easier knowing that he’s okay.
Kids CAN do stupid things… but when things work out okay, they work out okay as well. I thank God for his munificence—also thanking that a worse fate wasn’t in His plan. I think this did turn out for the better in the end… but that’s another story.