The Whisper Scare

On any given school day, I had the following conversation with both of my children in the car on the way home:

Me: So, how was your day?

Them: Great!

Me: Oh yeah, what made it great?

Them: Hmmm, I don’t remember.

Me: Well, what made you laugh today?

Them: Hmmm, I don’t remember.

Me: Did you do anything out of the ordinary in class?

Them: I don’t think so, but (better sit down for this revelation) I don’t remember.

Every day I asked them how their day was, every day they give me scraps.  Until bed time, of course, and then they were an open book.

I gave my daughter a kiss on her nose before bed a few weeks ago and she told me to be careful because her nose still hurt.

Why would it hurt?  What happened?

Someone threw a basketball at her face, hitting her nose hard enough to tear up but not bleed (her words, not mine).

So my question is this – is it wrong that I was less interested in how her nose was doing (she was fine, by the way), and more interested in finding out which juvenile delinquent threw the ball at her so I could find him on the school yard and whisper-scare him from ever hurting her again?

whisper scare

whisper-scare: verb – the act of whispering something to someone with a sweet southern smile on your face, while quietly convincing them that you see and know everything, and will hunt them down like a dog if they mess with your baby again…  But for real.

I always like to channel the late, great Dixie Carter when performing the whisper-scare. Works every time.






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