We sleep soundly in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm. — Winston Churchill
Late last night a terrible shriek came from the Jr. VP’s bedroom. Me: Goddamn monsters again. I kicked open the door to his room, dove in and did a tactical roll, then popped up next to the lad’s bed in a kung-fu stance. Let’s rock, bitches! I scanned the room for threats and/or targets. Nothing. Bastards! Escaped again! I’ll get ‘em next time. Stinky, you OK? I peeked over at the Jr VP. He was laying on his bed in a puddle of blood. Oh no! I’m too late! Thankfully, I was able to quickly ascertain that the boy hadn’t received any monster bites but instead had suffered a nose bleed. I got him calmed down, got his face cleaned up and a clean shirt on him. His bed though was still a wreck: I mean, who doesn’t want to go to sleep in a foot wide circle of their own blood? I was then faced with what I call a Mommy/Daddy type decision, and I stayed true to form. I knew that in this situation Mommy would strip the lad’s bed down to the mattress, get out new sheets and re-make his bed, and then start a load of laundry before going back to bed. I’m not Mommy. Daddy laid a red towel over the bloody mess and called it good. The Jr VP is my boy: he was perfectly happy with the towel solution. An emphatic Thank you Daddy! came from Stinkboy when I made the blood, er, disappear, and about 45 seconds later he was asleep again. Like I always say: Probably better to deal with this in the morning.
