Being stabbed in the neck with a cricket stump weilded by a two year old hurts.
It also results in much yelling about putting the bloody things away like I’ve asked you to do how many frigging times, cos this is what happens! Happy now?!
I’m ok. It just hurts. As per normal, there is no mark with which anyone can sympathise with me, nor to represent just how much pain I am actually in.
And it’s ok. I accidentally reeked my revenge when I pulled him down the steps during the process of the reflex action ripping the stump out of his hand and throwing it across the back yard.