Stuck

Today when we got home from school I told Big Kid about our day.

"little kid got his finger stuck in the hole in Reggie's plastic wheel and we couldn't get it out! His finger was all fat and turning purple and wouldn't budge at all. I thought we were going to have to go to the hospital to have it cut off of him, but I gave it one last big hard pull, and he cried really loud, and it slid off, leaving him with a deep round cut around his finger," I said.

"Awww, little kid! Man, I'm sorry dat happened to you!"

"Iz 'kay, bubby. Iz not your fault."

"No, I mean I'm sorry it happened at all. It must've hurt, dat's what I'm sorry 'bout. I'm feelin' real bad dat it happened to you."

"It's my fault, not yours. It did hurt bad, I was tellin' mumum not to pull it but see said 'hode on' and pulled hard and dat is da part dat hurt me so bad. I don't want you to feel bad 'bout it, 'kay bubby? I'm 'kay now and I'm not gonna put my finger in 'at again, so don't feel bad."

"Poor little kid. Mom, you shouldn't have pulled it if he told you not to."

"His finger was turning dark blue! That was my last shot before taking him to the ER to have the wheel cut off. I was freaking out."

"Yeah, and you didn't want Reggie's wheel gettin' cut up, so you cut up little kid's finger. I'm sorry she did dat, little kid."

"Is okay, bubby, not your fault."