Accidents Happen

Charlie just broke a piece of a ceiling lamp in the front entrance way of our rental house. He threw a dog toy behind him to distract Simone, the bulldog, so she would stop bothering him during his favorite tv show. Bad aim. I am currently trying to figure on a gentle way to break the news to Scott when he arrives home from work presently. Though I’m done being angry, Charlie remains in his room…to contemplate what?

1. Look before you throw?
2. Brainstorming a less destructive way to distract the pesky dog in the future?
3. Nice things he could say to his parents to make them sweet on him again?

Probably not.

Chances are that Charlie Bollinger’s trying to figure out how he can get back to watching his favorite tv show before the night is through. I await Scott’s arrival with a nice cold beer at the ready.

 

Post script…

In the end, Charlie was able to make his way back to some television time.  After a couple of hours in his room (doing all manner of fun, non-electronic activities, such as reading his favorite Calvin &Hobbes books, practicing some of his magic tricks and sketching both a werewolf and a vampire), I asked him if he had thought about what had happened long enough, he said, “Yea.  That was a tough time for me.”

“Really?” I murmured.

“Yep,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, chin down, and sighing with feigned remorse.  “I feel sufficiently and brutally punished.”

 

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