I so wish I had a video of this event, but I'll do my best to describe my hubby's mishap. Last weekend Kevin committed to taking down the thousands and thousands of white Christmas lights on our house. (Remind me to take a photo next year and post it, 'cuz Kevin's light display is most impressive. Blinding, but impressive.)
He had already put most of the lights into the attic above the garage, which is not the attic that caused my injury last month. But being the considerate father that he is, he folded up the lower half of the ladder so the kids wouldn't run into it while they were retrieving their outdoor toys.
And that would be his downfall. Kevin (again, being a great dad) leaned over to plug in the battery of David's Jeep. And in a swift, fluid motion, he stood up and turned around and went SMACK! into the dropdown ladder. A millisecond later Kevin was sprawled on the garage floor with a quarter-sized chunk of skin missing from his forehead. He was bleeding. He was hurt. He deserved some mercy.
What was my response? Hysterical giggling. Non-stop, uncontrollable laughter. The next morning we went to church with Kevin wearing a Band-Aid like a philactery on his forehead. And every time Kevin had to explain his boo-boo to our friends, it was accompanied by the sound of my laughter.
Anyone want to guess what score I got for mercy on the spiritual gift survey? I'll give you a hint: It was a single digit. Out of 50 possible points.
The irony is that today I am so sore I can't even walk because I pushed myself at the gym yesterday. I hurt! I want mercy! But Kevin's showing me about as much mercy as I showed him, and I deserve it.