Foamy Bat vs. Face

As a mother of little children who figure life with their siblings is a Death Match and must turn everything into a weapon with which to bludgeon each other, I have had opportunity to visit my local Emergency Room a couple of times.

Invariably, one or more concerned souls looks at my small bundle of hot mess and says, "Oh, your little one has a boo-boo, poor dear." I wish I had the nerve to say something inspiring, other than, "Yeah."

Something like, "Actually, I'm having a herpes flare-up and I'm here to get a UV treatment and some more Valtrex."

Or, "The officer told me to wait here so I can be admitted to the Psych Ward. But I'm smarter than them, you'll see."

Or, "I tested positive for Tuberculosis, but don't worry, I don't think I'm contagious anymore. What day is it again?"

Results of Foamy Bat vs. Face:




Love hurts.