The great banana massacre 


Mornings like this make me question the child safety of my house. Also my intelligence for not noticing Zev is tall enough to reach the knife rack. It’s a scary thing to come downstairs and find your children presiding over a banana massacre. As I was cleaning up, I thought I saw some blood on Meorah’s cheek, but it came right off without a mark and she wasn’t at all upset (except for being prevented from completing her sacrifice), so I let it go. Later while changing her I noticed her left hand was bloody and I found the cut on her index finger right by the distal knuckle. Deep enough to make me feel lucky I wasn’t taking a trip to the ED with a bag of ice. A few minutes of pressure and a swipe of liquid bandage later and I think we are good as new.

So, two lessons from this, one for me (and Sarah) and one for Zev. For the parents: reevaluate child safety requirements at each stage, and don’t over estimate your child’s ability to recognize danger. For Zev: I don’t care if you are being chased by a man in a hockey mask, you don’t play with knives or scissors, ever.