Today had to be a better day than yesterday; it was just physically impossible for it to be as bad or worse.  In spite of the facts that my throat tickle is heading down the path towards bronchitis; I sport a new bruise on my arm; and I have had sand dumped down my bra, it is indeed a better day.

Wikipedia (our source for accurate information) describes a bruise, or contusion, as “usually caused by blunt impact.”  It also adds that “it may correspond to [the] shape of [the] weapon.”  In my case, a child bit me because he did not want to wash his hands.  I have no doubt it will become the shape of his pointy little weapons.  No blunt impact here.  I think he applied suction, too, like a lamprey eel giving me a hickey.  Awesome.  He calmed down and we had a lovely lunch together of Crispix and water and purple circle-shaped snack food his mother described as “cereal”, but which look suspiciously like chalk.

Later, as I sat at the table trying not to bang my already bruised knees, a rather energetic kiddo played in his personal sand bucket and enthusiastically threw sand directly at my chest, where it conveniently slid into my low-neck shirt and settled down into my bra.  At which point I told him that was no way to keep a girlfriend, and I declared our session over.