“Accidents happen!”
We say that alot around our house.
Milk spills. “Accidents happen!”
Elbows knock something (or someone) over. “Accidents happen!”
Sometimes we say it multiple times on the same day. Heck . . . on the same morning.
The three year old doesn’t make it in time to the bathroom and wets his pants. “Accidents happen!”
The parents forget to put the sleepy diapers on the three year old and he wets the bed. “Accidents happen!”
Mommy doesn’t watch where she’s going and rear-ends (thus totaling) daddy’s minivan. “Accidents happen!”
Daddy forgets to watch the calendar and misses the once-a-month meeting for renovation approval and thus will need to postpone work on the fence, walkway, or whatever, for yet another month. “Accidents happen!”
Someone neglected to put the milk back into the refrigerator and the milk spoils. “Accidents happen!”
At the Kramer/Poehlmanns, “accidents happen” is appropriate for events both big and small. It’s been the household phrase for all things readily forgivable, often unavoidable, and ridiculously frequent.
It seems, though, that the wee Kramer/Poehlmanns have a domestic appreciation for accidents that does not extend to foreign lands. On Saturday night, while we sat around the dining room table, my friend Jesse received a text message from her neighbor: did Jesse know anything about the dent in the neighbor’s garage door? We assembled the children and began to investigate: who drove the snowmobile in the neighbor’s yard and, more to the point, who drove the snowmobile into the garage door?
You see, Charlotte (6), Theo (3), and I were spending the weekend in the Wisconsin winter wonderland of Door County with Jesse, her husband Mark, and their four children (ranging in age from 11 to 6 1/2, or is it 12 to 6 1/2? ) . Jesse & Mark’s house is on Lake Michigan Bay on an acre or so of property and my kids love to visit and to play there during any season. The family has a fleet of snowmobiles that range in size and ability (read: speed) for kids of all ages, so I wasn’t too worried about Charlotte driving a smaller and slower one.
As our investigation continued, we learned that Charlotte committed the hit and run on the house. Her voice was barely above a whisper and her eyes were huge when she owned up to the crash. Jesse and I explained, again, about how “accidents happen” and about how important it is to let an adult know about accidents when they happen, not well after the fact. I gave Charlotte a “get out of jail free” card for this accident, explaining that she’ll face consequences if she fails to acknowledge accidents in the future.
It turns out “accidents happen” alot at Jesse & Mark’s house, too. They’ve had to replace other garage doors due to bicycle and snowmobile crashes. Her contractor, Pete, was incredulous when she called him about the neighbor’s garage panel and the need to replace it. Good to know that Jesse & Mark are helping the 2010 contracting economy in Door County.
Accidents do happen, and we’re always grateful when no one is hurt. My friends are no exception. On Sunday night, a girlfriend returning from our kitchen to our living room took a long, almost slow motion, crash down the four steps onto the tropical plants, the back of the couch, and the ceramic tile floor. It was like watching a giant bird slowly swoop down, crying “Oh! Oh! Oh no-o-o-o-o-o!” Miraculously, the kids slept through the whole thing and Cammy girlfriend didn’t break anything on her body or on the trees. We laughed so hard we cried.
“Accidents happen!”
I have green stains on the knees of my jeans! What is on your floor, woman!
Those stains must be from your knitting expedition at the Lawtons!