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snowy · 03-16-2005, 01:13 PM

Oh boy.

When I was about nine and my brother was about 6 and a half we were out playing teeball at our friend's house. We regularly played teeball together and enjoyed it. The two friends supervising us and playing with us were 14 and 17 respectively, so we were in good hands.

Eventually we gave up on the tee and Steve, the 17-year-old, was pitching tennis balls to us. It was sunny out, and warm, and later we had plans to go swimming in their backyard pool. I stepped up to bat, waited for the pitch, and swung. I was so focused on the ball that I didn't notice my little brother had stepped up into the area of my backswing, and CRACK! The edge of the aluminum bat connects with the center of his forehead.

Now, for those of you who don't know, aluminum bats and tightly-drawn skin (like the skin of the forehead) do not mix. The skin of my brother's forehead split all the way to the bone.

We were all taken by surprise and my brother started crying the moment he saw the blood (it wasn't the first time he'd been hit in the head, but it was the first time he'd been hit so badly). My parents, who were inside our friends' house visiting with their parents (we're all old family friends), could only see that my brother is bleeding. My dad saw the whole thing but my mother did not--and my mother immediately assumed the worst--that I'd gone after my brother with the bat.

She came out of the house screaming and no one had a chance to tell her it wasn't my fault. Being the smart girl I was (and am) I ran over to our car, which had power locks, and locked myself in. My mother immediately demanded the keys of my father, who told her to hang on a second, and explained what he had seen. My mother's anger subsided and I got out of the car on my own. Meanwhile, everyone's attention had turned to my brother, who was still bleeding profusely. Before I knew it, he was gone to the hospital and I was left standing in the driveway with Steve.

My brother still swears that I had the much better day when all was said and done--Steve, seeing I felt terrible about what had happened, called his girlfriend and the two of them took me to the mall to go shopping and buy frozen yogurt. My brother, meanwhile, spent a couple hours in the ER getting stitches and being checked over.

The scar at the center of my brother's forehead is no longer as plump or noticeable as it once was. But it's come in handy...especially the second time I clocked him in the head with a bat--the scar kept the skin from breaking.

But that was on purpose.

03-16-2005, 01:13 PM	#2 (permalink)
snowy Kick Ass Kunoichi Location: Oregon	Oh boy. When I was about nine and my brother was about 6 and a half we were out playing teeball at our friend's house. We regularly played teeball together and enjoyed it. The two friends supervising us and playing with us were 14 and 17 respectively, so we were in good hands. Eventually we gave up on the tee and Steve, the 17-year-old, was pitching tennis balls to us. It was sunny out, and warm, and later we had plans to go swimming in their backyard pool. I stepped up to bat, waited for the pitch, and swung. I was so focused on the ball that I didn't notice my little brother had stepped up into the area of my backswing, and CRACK! The edge of the aluminum bat connects with the center of his forehead. Now, for those of you who don't know, aluminum bats and tightly-drawn skin (like the skin of the forehead) do not mix. The skin of my brother's forehead split all the way to the bone. We were all taken by surprise and my brother started crying the moment he saw the blood (it wasn't the first time he'd been hit in the head, but it was the first time he'd been hit so badly). My parents, who were inside our friends' house visiting with their parents (we're all old family friends), could only see that my brother is bleeding. My dad saw the whole thing but my mother did not--and my mother immediately assumed the worst--that I'd gone after my brother with the bat. She came out of the house screaming and no one had a chance to tell her it wasn't my fault. Being the smart girl I was (and am) I ran over to our car, which had power locks, and locked myself in. My mother immediately demanded the keys of my father, who told her to hang on a second, and explained what he had seen. My mother's anger subsided and I got out of the car on my own. Meanwhile, everyone's attention had turned to my brother, who was still bleeding profusely. Before I knew it, he was gone to the hospital and I was left standing in the driveway with Steve. My brother still swears that I had the much better day when all was said and done--Steve, seeing I felt terrible about what had happened, called his girlfriend and the two of them took me to the mall to go shopping and buy frozen yogurt. My brother, meanwhile, spent a couple hours in the ER getting stitches and being checked over. The scar at the center of my brother's forehead is no longer as plump or noticeable as it once was. But it's come in handy...especially the second time I clocked him in the head with a bat--the scar kept the skin from breaking. But that was on purpose. __________________ If I am not better, at least I am different. --Jean-Jacques Rousseau