Bad Timing

Walking through the laundry room I spot a small serrated knife on the dryer. Hmmm, that doesn't belong there. I grab it and head for the kitchen. At the exact moment my hand falls to my side, Maren gives me a hug. Her thumb grazes the blade of the knife. She stares up at me - eyes widened in disbelief that her mother has just stabbed her. There is blood. There are apologies. There is more blood. There is a wet rag. There is a bandaid. There is another hug. I think there may be a "bad mom" citation in the mail tomorrow - Yikes!