I have a deep, dark secret that I am ready to reveal to the world.
You might want to sit down for this…
I hate the smell of ham.
It’s not like I dislike the smell of ham. The pungent fumes will actually leave me in a fetal position on the floor it there is no one around to see.
Why you ask?
Well, you may not actually care but I am going to tell you anyway…
It all started the fall of my freshman year in college, in biology lab, with a fetal pig named Pinky. The dissection was cool and exciting until about the third week in when my brain began to associate the smell of ham and formaldehyde as inseparable aromas.
While I have always cringed away from the memory of that experience, I found myself needing to face the past recently; on a day that involved me picking up Sam and his teacher informing me that my child had somehow impaled himself with a pencil. Upon inspection we could see that the pencil lead was still embedded deep under the skin and something was going to have to be done about it.
Now it’s not a Saturday around here without me having to dig some sort of sharp object out of somebody’s finger or a tick outta someone’s head. A little squeezing, a handy pair of tweezers and all is well with the world.
The problem with pencil lead?
It breaks into a million tiny pieces whenever you try to touch it.
So while my child wiped away the tears streaming down his face, I had to retrieve something from the dusty corners of my closet. Something I never thought I would ever have to see again.
My dissection kit.
Now I’m sure you can imagine Sam’s reaction when I approached the kitchen counter with the kit and opened it to reveal a scalpel, skin scissors, and all of their torturous looking friends. Like me, Sam has a very active imagination so the horrors dancing in his brain were apparent on his face.
Imagine my surprise when he begged me to cut him open rather than going to the doctor. It is a heady thing when someone trusts you enough to hold still while you perform surgery on them. Now in all fairness, I had already showed him that the skin covering the lead was white and dead. Still, he had to keep himself perfectly steady as I needed both of my hands to cut and peel away the skin with two instruments. With wide-eyed brothers looking on, he screamed “that didn’t even hurt!” as soon as the culprit was dislodged. He was a brave soldier with a story that would last him a lifetime.
And me? Well, I scored major cool-mom points that day my friends.
|I don’t need no stinking doctor! (that must be said with an accent to sound evil 🙂|