Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Game Time

Well, this was nearly it: the weekend that I, the Football Widow, became Cath the Real Live Widow.

I went out with two of my friends from high school, Pat and Steph, and we were having a high ol' time Saturday night. We were drinking, laughing, talking about the old times, forgetting about the stresses of the holiday season, work vibes. We were just chillin'.

I come home, and tell Mike, "Man, did we have a good time."

To which he replied, "Well, I almost died."

Which ... is kind of a damper. But, I'm a nice person and didn't want to seem selfish. So, instead of ignoring him and telling him about my night, I compassionately asked, "What the HELL?!"

When I left the house, he only had Ryan with him. Cara had spent the day with Alex and Barbara, going to the mall, and going to dinner with them. When she came home, she and Ryan decided to play Connect Four, the game with the checker-like red and black chips.

Well, Ryan apparently figured out a way to beat his big sister on a consistent basis. And then she figured out a way to block him. Then Mike, apparently, decided to help Ryan develop a new strategy. Which got on Cara's nerves, apparently. So, there were Mike and Ryan, having a high ol' time developing Connect Four strategem, laughing at their ingenuity, when Cara just grabbed a bunch of the chips and chucked them at Mike, who for some reason had his head thrown back in laughter, so it was in just the right position to catch a playing piece, which lodged in his throat. Apparently.

Now, the parenting magazines I lived on when Cara was a baby always advised that if you come to find yourself choking to death in front of young children who aren't capable of administering the Heimlich, you're supposed to save your own life by launching your abdomen against something like a chair or the back of a sofa. Mike (who was never one for the baby mags), instead, stood up, and then fell to his knees and turned three shades of blue and then somehow coughed it up. It was all very avant-garde.

Me: "Did Cara even try dialing 911?"

Mike: "I don't know."

Me: "How long were you choking?"

Mike: "Twenty seconds. Ten seconds. I don't know."

Me: "Were they upset, or trying to help?"

Mike: "I think they were laughing. Until I fell down."

Oh, yes. While my friends and I were yukking it up, Mike was chuckin' it up. Buon appetito!

Catherine Schetting Salfino

No comments:

Post a Comment