This tale has two heads

There is a homeless-looking man who occassionally passes our house, and he is very grateful when we offer him some things. He has a large swelling on his forehead, so Noah calls him “Mr. Plum”. I don’t know if the reasons are obvious?

Last week, Mr. Plum received some peanut butter sandwiches, amongst other things. Noah began screeching about why Mr. Plum had to receive food, while he, Noah, was waiting for his. Of course, our reply was along the lines of – maybe if he, Noah, as was grateful for a peanut butter sandwich as Mr. Plum, then we might want to rush and make food for Noah.
To which the obvious reply from him: “But I hate peanut butter”!!!

Aaah, kids, you gotta love them.

Or else you’d drown them in the pool.

Which brings me to the next head of this tale: my own. After work last Thursday, I jumped in the pool to swim with Noah and Jody. Noah normally dives in after me. Then Jody comes running at high speed, and stops at the edge of the pool, waiting to jump into my arms. This time, Noah is distractingly throwing water in my eyes so that I can’t see Jody. So I turn to him to say – stoppit, safety first – for the three hundredth and twelfth time this summer. As I turn back to catch Jody, I catch him, you guessed it, ‘plum’ on my forehead, as Jody has leapt before I looked.

Within about the time it took me to get out of the pool, screaming at youknowwho at the top of my voice, my own plum had formed above my right eye. Mercifully Jody was not too badly injured. And the angle of impact prevented drowning. But I could so easily have drowned the distractor…

I have pictures which I’ll try to paste here. But perhaps they are not suitable for public consumption.

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