Where's Flick? Has Anyone Seen Flick?

I'm going to tell you one story in order to tell you another one. Neither puke, nor poop, nor seizures will be featured in either, although the second story still has a healthy dose of suffering, lest you think you are reading someone else's website.

Friday was Kathryn's third birthday party this month. There's just one more to go. Four birthday parties in one month was, of course, my wife's idea: The four-part-Indiana-Jones-birthday-party marathon. It had started with a casual "Let's take Kathryn to the new Indiana Jones movie for her birthday," and had turned into a "Let's invite all of Kathryn's friends over every Friday night for a month to watch each of the old Indiana Jones movies and then take them all to see the new one when we're done," all before I even had time to remind her that Kathryn's birthday comes in late July. By the time I did get that not-unimportant fact out, it was moot. "...and each night can have a theme and games and, ooooh, I wonder if the movies come in a boxed-set," my wife rambled on to herself. When she turned to me and asked if we should have a fifth party night just for the DVD bonus features, I admitted defeat and mentally added one more layer of bricks to the internal tomb in which I keep my poor dead soul.

Now that we are three movies into the saga, even my wife admits she thought there would be a lot more movie-watching involved at a movie-watching party. Instead, what we had for the first movie-and-a-half was a bunch of girls screaming at odd intervals for no apparent reason, and for the second movie-and-a-half, screaming because Camilo wouldn't stop saying, "Ah, dessert! Chilled monkey brains!"

He's like the son I never had.

But it's not the screaming girls I wanted to tell you about; it's the screaming men. Well, screaming man. To be precise, the screaming me. I know you're surprised.

Late last night, I found a forgotten casualty of the three weeks of partying: an untouched bowl of ice cream, spoon and all, stashed away in our freezer. Cookies and cream, it appeared to be. Delicious, it appeared to be. Waiting for me, it appeared to be. And cold, it appeared to be.

The only one of the above I can actually confirm is that it was cold. Because when I spooned that first bite into my mouth, using the spoon so conveniently left right there in the bowl, and I know you can see where this is going, that metal spoon froze to the inside of my mouth so quickly I didn't even realize what had happened before, in shock, I pulled it out, taking with it the tender skin of my tongue, my left cheek, and the back of my bottom lip.

Cue the screaming.

The bleeding stopped within an hour or two. I'll let you know when the pain does.

Comments

[Joy]

Wait a minute...let me get this straight. Your life isn't difficult enough, so you decided to stick a frozen spoon in your mouth? Are you nuts? Are you brain dead? What were you thinking?

Sigh. Don't bother to answer those questions.

[Burgh Baby]

All that education you received focusing on numbers and math and such, and nobody taught you the real world application as it pertains to temperature of metallic items coming in contact with warm body parts? Really?

[Victoria]

Damn. I didn't see that coming. Which means I would have done the same thing.

Ow.

[Stacia]

::sporfle::

[TJ]

I was actually relieved when I read about your injuries. I was so worried that it was chilled monkey brains that you were spooning into your mouth.

[Claire]

That scene sounds almost grisly enough to be in an Indiana Jones movie.

[Jonathon]

I let out an audible gasp when I read that last part. HOLY CRAP THE PAIN MUST BE INTENSE.

[Michelle]

Nice. I did something similar in 5th grade, while waiting for the bus to pick me up before school. I wanted to see if the rumor about tongues and freezing metal was true.

It was.

My tongue froze to the iron support post on our front porch. Realizing the bus was coming down the hill, I panicked (because who wants to be forever subject to jeering bus miscreants?) and jerked back, leaving some of my tongue on the post. I remember suffering in embarrassed silence while my tongue bled most of the day.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure I even told my parents. Bet my sister told 'em, though.

[Holly]

Makes me think of the scene in A Christmas Story... and now that I'm writing this, I'm remembering the kid's name was Flick and the title to this post makes more sense. And my question every year is... Where was the cup of warm water? Poor kid had to spend the whole school day with his tongue sticking out of his mouth, tied with a cotton bandage, when it all could have been avoided with a simple cup of warm water poured over his tongue!

[3-Martini Jennifer]

Awesome. Now every time you make fun of me (which is ALL THE TIME) I can remind you of this story. Swwwweeeet.

[Renata]

I once preheated an oven, opening it after a few moments to discover that my roommate had left a cast-iron skillet in there. Thought, it can't be too hot yet, reached in to grab the handle and voila! Nice imprint of the handle on my palm, and off to the student health center... And they still let me be a scientist!

[Laura]

Ouchie, Ouchie, Looky, Daddy!!!!!!!!! Yikes. I do have to say that even with the title I missed where this was going until you spelled it out. And then the title made much sense. I'm so sorry. Ouchie!!!!!

[Trudie]

Oh man!
I'm debating whether I should feel sorry for you or go :::sporfle:::
My son learnt that lesson before entering kindergarten... After I had warned not to put his tongue on the iron support to the lamp post.

[Kim]

Holy cow. ::snort::

[Clare]

Wow. I am with the crowd that totally did not see that coming. Ouch. I am sorry. At least it was you and not K??

[R]

SWEET JESUS. I literally squirmed in my chair as I read the end. oh oh oh.

[R]

sorry about the double post--once I regained coherent thought I remembered something. My friend once cut her tongue on a chipped jar (don't ask), and they told her that the mouth heals a lot faster than other body parts. Still not fast enough, though, I'm sure. omg I am still wincing for you.

[Brian]

Wow, everyone, it wasn't that bad. Honestly, I meant the post to elicit more ::sporfles:: than ALL CAPS. I mean, if I could drink hot coffee, there'd be almost no downside to this at all.

[The Mom]

1: That was my bowl of ice cream and thus his rightful punishment.
2. Why is nobody commenting on what a COOL party we're throwing?!?

[Mommy, Esq.]

You might want to stick with "nugget" ice cream (like the mini Dove bars) or those that come with their own plastic spoon or wooden stick. Just curious - whose ice cream was it to begin with? Maybe you can alleviate some pain by blaming that person instead of yourself. Of course, it could have been you. :)

[heidi]

so wait a sec... there was NO ER visit to stop the blood?

[lfm]

Yes, perhaps you should've re-watched A Christmas Story instead of the past Indiana Jones movies...teehee!!!

What a great idea for a party though!!! I bet the girls are loving having to be somewhere every Friday night for a month!!! I bet their parents are equally if not more grateful!!!

[Holly]

Better a spoon than a flag pole, if you ask me ;-)

[Taylor]

Didn't you learn ANYTHING from A Christmas Story!?

[Danielle-lee]

Oh NO!!! I didn't mean to laugh, but I did.