There's a small scratch on my face, just to the left of my nose. The scratch is the end result of a rampaging seven month old. This supposedly innocent baby reached out to me to hold her on Saturday evening. As soon as she was securely in my arms, she pulled my hair. That caused me to giggle, so she reached over and attempted to pluck my left eyeball out of the socket. When that didn't work, she whipped around and seized my right ear, trying to yank it off my head. Failing in that quest, she grabbed my nose and tugged. When it remained attached to my face, she gave in and scratched my face with her sharp little fingernails. She looks all sweet and harmless in her white tights and skirts and pink shirts with hearts all over them, but my brother-in-law described his daughter as someone who "will rip your face off, raging-chimpanzee style." Of course, I was delighted by my niece's feisty nature. Not that anyone should be violent, but the kid's got spunk. Yesterday I went to get the mail. Some random metal piece stabbed my finger. This was right before I leaned down to get food for Tycho the Giant White Pet Rabbit out of the veggie bin in the refrigerator. When I stood up, I bashed my head on the handle of the freezer door. The impact was so hard I almost threw up. The good news is that it made me forget about my finger injury and the scratch on my face.
The world is dangerous in many ways.