Man vs. Toe

Several of my stories centre around how Mr. Man has saved the day. He is not always caped, however, and has his Clark Kent moments, and, apparently, his kryptonite.

A couple of weeks ago, Little Miss had a fall and pulled the nail off of her middle toe in the process. We have never seen her in so much pain. She who hurts herself on a regular basis, had hit her pain threshold. I won't go into the details, but Mr. and I changed roles in that instant.

I went into high Mommy gear, yet surprisingly handled the situation (and my emotions) calmly, remembered my first-aid, and talked her through it. Although my heart raced, I was able to put on a good front and deal with her wound.

All the while, Mr. Man was pacing the floor, increasing in volume and colour, tripping on his "cape", and finding it hard to breath as his Little (Lois Lane, if I may) lay in distress. Doors were slammed, shoes were kicked, and the WORDS! Oh, there were words!

When it was all over, he apologized for losing it, and we had an exchange of raised eyebrows, as if to say, "What the hell was that all about?"

She wiped her nose on her sleeve, he came back down to size, and carried her upstairs for bed. His muscles were of use once again.

Downstairs, I washed and pressed his cape, put the band-aids away and had a glass of wine.

Cheers to WonderWoman, for once.