On a return from a hard day’s work, he finds her weeping uncontrollably. He thinks to himself of all the things that could have gone wrong. He searches for his son, who is playing happily behind the distraught mother. He looks him over, no scratches, no Band-Aids, no head wounds and no obvious deformity.
“Did he get hurt?”
She bawls louder, dropping her head in her hands. He looks over again at his son with only one shoe.
“Oh honey, I know they were cute but he’ll have other shoes.”
She opens her eyes wide, stops sobbing and hides her lips as she stares at him. He puts down his keys, takes off his shoes, takes off his coat as he processes what could have it been.
“I’m sorry honey, I guess it was a really bad day.”
She says nothing but looks over at her son and gently strokes his head. The baby boy with his hair standing to one end and his pants on backwards shows his six teeth and fakes a cough.
“He looks fine.” In trying to soothe her and change the conversation he continues, “How was the shopping spree, did you get a new scarf?”
She holds her breath, clenches her teeth and looks up at him with teary red eyes.
“I guess it was a disaster huh? Instead of fun.”
She kisses her sweet baby boy’s forehead and in between taking deep breaths she explains.
“I had him on my hip looking around and I bent over to open up the drawers below to look through the scarves. It was so embarrassing. I’m never going back, I’m so stupid.” She returns to her fit of crying.
He lifts up the boy checks him over again, puts his arm around her and says, “Well its all done right? You’re home.”
“I bashed his head, John. I bashed his head.”
He hugs his boy to notice a slight pink line on his forehead.
“I bent down and bashed his head on a table.” She cries. He laughs and the baby boy makes bubbles with his mouth.