Kids Will Be Kids

Today was one of those days.

A day where everything is as it should be until your house helper gets a call from your children's preschool classmate's mom saying she's on her way over because she needs to apologize for her son hitting your son and about your son's head leaking blood.

screeeeeeeech...as your day comes to a halt.

"Wait...what? Salem's head is leaking blood?"

Yes, that's the quite literal translation. I may still be fairly new to this whole Chinese speaking thing. But leaking blood...yep, I caught that one.

So I say to my house helper, "Is he going to need..." and then I made sewing motions on my head as if she totally knows what I'm talking about. And her reply is "yeah, probably..."

Immediately I turned and went to do two things.

1. Change my pants. Because if I was going to be spending the rest of the afternoon in a Chinese hospital, my pajama pants weren't going to cut it. Especially since it was 2 pm. (oops)

2. Look up in my phone dictionary how to say "stitches" in Chinese so I don't have to make sewing motions on my head 37 times that afternoon.

After switching pants I came back into the kitchen and my house helper begins to clarify... "In Chinese we have two terms for leaking blood...one is like dripping blood, and one is like a scratch." 

"Ok great. So which one does Salem have? Is his head dripping blood or is it scratched?"

"I think just scratched."

Great...wish we could have clarified that to begin with before my mind fast-forwarded through all the gory details that were sure to happen that day.

About 5 minutes later the kids, two of their teachers, and the preschool offender's parents show up at our front door.

A big ole goose egg. No leaking or dripping blood. Just some tear stained eyes of a boy who was ready to see his mama. 

I asked him what happened... "I hit a wall!"

"what? I thought your friend hit you?

"No. I hit a giant pink wall!!"

Apparently he was shoved into a wall. And what Salem clearly remembers from the incident is that that wall was PINK.

But it's nothing a little 'Mater band-aid can't fix.

Meanwhile, we enjoyed some cultural oddities. Since I've never had a child in preschool in America that's gotten pummeled by a classmate, I'm not sure what the right course of action is. But here, the parents come, they apologize, they talk about how they need to do a better job of disciplining their child. We say, hey...kids will be kids. Don't worry about it. (because this actually is the SECOND time this couple has had to come apologize on their son's behalf...the first time for biting Salem. And no, he did not "leak blood" then either)

 But perhaps the most important aspect of the whole visit is the gift giving, which really is expected no matter the circumstance. When you show up at someone else's house, you gotta have something in your hands. And where it gets tricky for us Americans is that it's not what's on the inside that counts. It's totally all about the value and the packaging. The more expensive, the better. The fancier the package or wrapping...the better. The more reusable the package or box, even better. I hear that usually the actual gift inside is tossed out and the outer wrapping is put on display. That's a hard thing for me to grasp as I give cookies to neighbors in twice-used ziploc bags and wrap books in newspaper. (oops, again)

So today, the offender's parents brought us a giant pink sturdy expensive box of eggs. 36 eggs in fact. 

I'm glad I signed up to bring deviled eggs for our Thanksgiving meal next week!

I felt that it fit quite well with the situation...goose egg...chicken egg... I dunno.

I'm thankful these days don't come around very often.

You know...the days where you get a call about your child leaking blood. 

Yeah. I hope that doesn't happen again. At least for awhile.

As for Salem, he's just fine. Says his forehead hurts. Says YiNuo (the offender) is still his best friend. And maybe he'll be steering clear of pink walls for awhile.