A few nights ago I went upstairs for a few minutes leaving the Army Man and Laura downstairs. After just a moment, I heard a sound that is heard in our home at many times daily: crying. This time was different though. On the Crying Threat Level scale I would rate it as “High” but that was only because I was an entire floor away from the crying and couldn’t tell if there was any thrashing involved. I’m sure there was. So this crying-I’m talking full on screaming and shouting and crying. I couldn’t figure out what the heck could be going on. I was there not a minute ago and all was well. They were sitting on the couch together. What could have transpired?
What happened was this: a tiny little hangnail caught Laura’s attention. She showed it to the Army Man. He looked at it and felt his fatherly duties involved somehow removing the offending nail. So he decided to just rip it off. Rip it off of my extremely dramatic and sensitive daughter’s finger. The crying began before the ripping even started, that’s how dramatic Laura is. The moment she broke free from the Army Man she came barreling upstairs screaming and crying, waving the evidence in front of me with nary an intelligible word to be heard. She was so distraught that she actually ran from bedroom to bedroom screaming and crying. For added effect perhaps? Searching for a safe place to hide from further finger injury? Maybe looking for some weapon of torture to use on the Army Man? I didn’t even get the full story until the Army Man came upstairs to sheepishly explain that he hadn’t thought it would hurt her so much.
I know he meant well. And I know I’m lucky to have the Army Man as my husband when most Dads would just tell their daughter to go see Mommy for an issue like that. I just hope he learns his lesson and next time gets out the clippers sitting in my bathroom for just such an occasion.