Gore in the kitchen

TLM's first real day at daycare was apparently fun-filled and separation anxiety-free. As expected, she spent about two hours in standing in front of the outdoor water trough, scooping it up and pouring it down her front. In fact, she seemed to have had such a good time that she didn't eat a thing all morning except for a small pot of yoghurt and two gingernuts.

She made up for the lack of appetite at dinner time though. Just in case she's displaying a renewed food pickiness, she's getting cheesy pasta 'n' peas for lunch next time she goes to daycare.

This little domestic tale could have ended here, if I hadn't stepped on a bit of glass just as I was getting TLM out of her highchair.

This tiny bit of glass embedded in my heel was no doubt a missed remnant from a couple of nights ago when the boy broke his second-to-last wineglass. It was surprisingly easy to remove though, and I soon resumed to pottering around the kitchen putting away TLM's leftovers.

I didn't know it at the time, but I'd been spraying foot-blood all over the kitchen floor. TLM was fascinated by the little red puddles and my efforts to wipe it up with paper towels were too slow to stop her from dipping fingers in the stuff.

That's when I remembered a movie I'd seen as a child, in which someone was poisoned when he unknowingly sipped a drink containing a small amount of someone else's blood. Please let that be utter fiction.

And just as I mopped the smudges of blood off the floor, I heard the distinct "chink" sound of yet another glass fragment...