The Head Scar

I recently shaved my head. I’ve been wanting to do it for some time, and the girls are enjoying either rubbing the stubble on my scalp, or smacking it when I’m not paying attention.

CB is sitting in my lap before bed, we’ve just read the last of her evening books. She climbs up and rubs my head.
CB: “Hamster fur!”
Dad: “Yep. Nice and cool for the summer.”
CB: “I can see the dent in your head.”
Dad: “The scar? You remember how I got that?”
CB: “ Yeah, the boy threw a rock at you.”
Dad: “Do you remember why?”
CB: “Because you were making fun of him.”
Dad: “That’s right. I mean, it’s never ok to throw rocks, that part wasn’t nice, but you know, I kinda had it coming. I wasn’t being very nice to him. He was a friend of mine, and I was teasing him too much. I sorta deserved it.”
CB: “Why didn’t you duck?”
Dad: “It was a long ways away and I didn’t think he could hit me. I forgot that he played baseball. Smacked me right in the forehead. I didn’t call him names after that. We both got in trouble.”
CB looks at the spot on my forehead and pats it.
CB: “I’ll always remember that story.”
Dad: “I hope so. It’s important to not call people names, it’s not nice, right?”
CB: “No. I’m going to duck.”

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