"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" His roar is rich and deep and heavy with a rage that 12 years shouldn't know. "AAAAOOOOOWWWWW! NOA, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"
I can hear her whimper through the porch door. "I don't know."
They're getting their coats on to go to church for the mid-week program.
"Sorry, Zander." Barely a whisper.
"NO YOU'RE NOT!" And he sounds like murder.
I open the door. Zander's clutching his side and breathing through his mouth in the long draws we've taught him to use when he needs to calm down. Noa is staring at the floor and there's terror in the shiver of her shoulders.
"What happened?" I ask.
"NOA BIT ME!" He lifts his shirt and shows me the wound.
"Noa, did you bite him?" I ask.
"I don't know."
"Zander, what happened?"
Liam pipes up, "He called her a zombie."
I want to laugh because common sense would say, you call a kid zombie - that kid is going to bite you!
Poor Zombie Noa. A great tear slips down her cheek while she contemplates the consequence of her action, looking to a brother who is red-faced and shaking his head against his own pain tears.
I can't laugh, of course. Noa is disciplined with lost privileges and I put them through the actions of apology and acceptance.
"You realize what your shirt says, Zander?" I ask him.
He looks down and a little grin splits through the gloom.
I'll have to keep my eye on him. All it takes is a bite to be turned.
[NaBloPoMo Day 28]
And now, a behind the scenes look at the thrilling making of this post...
We've finished dinner and I say to Zander, "Would you go put on the zombie shirt you were wearing yesterday so I can take a picture of it?"
"What? Why? Did you blog about the bite?"
"I don't want to." (Mom, you're so lame!) "I'm still hungry. Can I have a muffin?"
"Go put on that shirt and you can have a muffin."