My three year-old daughter went roller skating yesterday and came home with a black eye. My ex-wife had the girls for the weekend and she took them to a birthday party. At first, I began sailing questions threw the phone with feverish rapidity. What do you mean a black eye? Didn’t the roller rink have helmets? Why didn’t you have them lock her skates? Were you watching her? I ceased my inquisition after seven or so second guessing questions. After my ex responded there was little I would’ve done differently. Although I appreciated the quick phone call and solemn camera-phone picture displaying the shiner, I couldn’t help but feel that I could’ve done something if I was in the rink.
Ah, the ups and downs of raising children. What’s done is done. I’m hoping the next time she fastens four wheels to her feet she’ll be more careful, but I’m not holding my breath.
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