I woke up from a very lovely nap yesterday evening. I sat there on the couch, trying to conjure a dinner idea, when ‘Farley’ came up to me with his hands behind his back. This is usually not a good sign. Then he thrust his ink-stained arms and hands at me. I sighed, because There Ain’t No Such Thing As A Free Nap. (I learned that principle in Economics 101). We proceeded to the kitchen, at which point I saw that his feet were also covered in ink…blue, from a pen, as in, it leaked…sticky, blue staining ink. So I announced bath time. ‘Tori’ followed us upstairs, loudly proclaiming that she didn’t want a bath. I assured her she didn’t need to take one. She disappeared. Since Farley was in the bath anyway, I shampooed his hair. It was then, with shampoo up to my elbows and the bathwater loudly filling the tub, that I heard a clatter and loud wailing. ‘Tori’ often wails loudly for kicks; I couldn’t quite tell if it was happy or not. So I shouted above the din, “What was that?? Somebody help me!” Then the wailing got louder, so I rinsed my hands, left a bewildered Farley with suds for hair and turned the corner. DH had run up the stairs by this time, and I saw him and Tori crouching on the hardwood floor with blood drops all over the floor and her pants, and spewing out of her nose. The sight of blood really sends her into a frenzy, because blood has the potential to mean MedPoint. She had fallen off of our hallway bench and did a faceplant. I delegated rinsing Farley’s hair to ‘Dale’, sent ‘Etherealanna’ to get a paper towel, and then we did damage control. Tori ended up in the bath anyway.