Well, on to the point of the story. Last night Christopher came in to my bedroom to inform me that he had done something. I raised my eyebrows partially in fear of what he would say. You see he had just finished cooking breakfast for dinner (yes he cooks and pretty good most of the time) and so I thought he may be confessing to something disastrous like burning the kitchen down or maybe confessing that he had cooked his sister along with the potatoes but no he explained that he had stepped on a nail.
Stepped on a nail???!!???? How in the hell do you step on a nail while cooking breakfast for dinner? Then I reminded myself that this was my intelligent, overachieving son Christopher. He probably was building some sort of mini construction project at the kitchen table while the bacon was sizzling in the pan a few feet away. Or possibly he was rebuilding the broken cabinets while the eggs were cooking away. Who knows?
He all of a sudden began an exaggerated limp over to the side of my bed and proceeded to show me the hole in the bottom of his foot which was actually a bit impressive. Yes, he had indeed stepped on a nail but I inwardly doubted that it went into his foot the six inches he claimed it had. Along with his fact collecting abilities he also has a huge exaggeration bone that runs the length of his body.
After a search for first aid items he settled for some gauze and medical tape to catch the huge amount of antibiotic cream he had slathered all over his foot. By the time he was finished one would have thought he was a wounded soldier in World War II or something.
I still don't quite understand how he stepped on a nail while cooking but at the end of it all Megan announced that breakfast for dinner was quite delicious.