In which David injures his manly bits or When manscaping goes bad...

Those of you who are David's friends on Facebook know that he suffered a dance related injury this week. He has been rehearsing like mad, the only man among a group of housewives, for the big recital this weekend. He has never been very good about holding back, or pacing himself and so during one of his rehearsals this week he pulled his groin.





I don't completely understand what this means, except that it results in copious swearing and the need to hold an ice pack in his lap. Kind of like his response to his vasectomy, actually.

Not one to let the show go on without him, he has been wearing an elaborate system of Ace bandages and surgical tape in order to protect his groin.

There is a problem with the use of surgical tape in such a delicate and hairy region of one's body. The tape kept getting stuck in certain hairs, certain hairs which I will not describe, but suffice it to say that these are private hairs.

David decided that shaving these hairs would solve the problem. Why he chose to solve this problem without the aid of a mirror is a mystery to me and a deep regret of David's.

While I was getting the girls' ready for the dress rehearsal today I asked him, "Are you ready to take the dogs for a walk?"

"Well, " he replied, "I can't stop bleeding."

And that is when I looked up and saw my naked husband holding a wad of toilet paper to his most delicate and vulnerable bits.

With one look I knew exactly what had happened.

Reader, I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

He got a bit teste (Sorry. Could not resist.)

Dejectedly, he sat upon the bed and ministered to his wound. Closer inspection revealed a half inch long laceration which would not stop bleeding.

I tried to use first aid, but my help only increased the blood flow.

Finally, I had to leave. It was time to take Rebecca and Lily to their dress rehearsal. I left David home, lying in bed, with his wound elevated and his soul depressed.

Dance is a cruel mistress, but manscaping wants blood.

Daddy Daughter antics...

Tonight was the Daddy Daughter Valentine's Day Dance in our town.

Rebecca didn't want to go because that level of noise often gives her a headache. She went to her usual dance class instead.

Earlier in the week Lily announced that she did not wish to go to the dance, she wanted to go to gymnastics. She would not be dissuaded.

She would not be dissuaded that is, until this afternoon when she issued a new proclamation:

"Even though I have been very crabby with Daddy all morning, I would like to go to the Daddy Daughter Dance with him."

I sprang into action. David was alerted that his presence would be required. Lily was bathed, her hair was washed and curled and a Valentine dress was put on.

She was so lovely and happy.




I should have paid more attention to these pictures though.



Had I paid closer attention to these pictures I might have been able to warn David.


I was too distracted by her cuteness to notice that perhaps something was brewing...

I took some pictures of David and Lily...





And sent them on their way.

All was lovely at home. Just me, the dogs and some chicken tikka masala for dinner. Bliss...which lasted thirty minutes.

And then the phone rang.

"Will you please convince your daughter not to leave the dance?" David asked.

He put Lily on the phone and she cried and cried. She didn't want to dance, none of her friends were there and she wanted to come home.

"But Lily," I said, "There will be cake!"

"I don't care!" she sobbed. "I want to come home!"

And so they came home. Lily cried and then she had a bath and some snacks and cried some more.

Meanwhile, as David was getting ready to leave to go pick up Rebecca I said, "Why don't you take Rebecca to the dance?"

Such brilliance! David grabbed Rebecca's fancy dance frock and fetched her from class and asked her to the dance. She was happy to oblige.

They had a lovely time. They danced. They had cake. No one cried.





And so the night ended, one daughter happy and one crazy, both loved.