Those words come out of my mouth a lot.
Why would you, play with a dead toad?
do a belly flop into the bath tub?
eat ants off the ground?
throw rocks into the pool?
climb into the bed that the cat just had a massive diarrhea explosion all over?
walk up to a display at the bookstore that you know you're not allowed to touch, touch it anyway sending it crashing to the ground?
chew on the packages of bologna, hot dogs and cheese I just put into our shopping cart?
However the one that may well take the cake happened just a few days ago.
The older two boys were in the backyard playing in the sandbox when Evan came in, tears streaming down his face, wailing that Seth had hit him in the head with a brick.
We had recently bought them brick pavers to build with to deter from them ripping up the ones we use for actual landscaping.
So before Seth could defend himself I sent him to his room, I was too worried about assessing the damage to listen to his side of the story at that moment.
I went to get Evan ice however while I was gone he reached up, touched his head and low and behold blood. That sent him over the edge. He became hysterical at this point screaming, "I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding! Wahhhh!"
I decided to forgo the ice until I had determined if we were going to have to go to the hospital for stitches.
Upon examination I found that while he no doubt had been hit in the head it was at worst a grazing. He had no bump, and only a small scrape, that while bleeding profusely, as head wounds often do, didn't need to be, nor could be stitched.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief, took Evan into the bathroom and did the whole first aid routine, mostly to help him calm down.
Once he was settled I asked him why Seth threw a brick at him. He nonchalantly answered, "We were playing brick rain."