Two mornings ago I heard the tell tale scritchy-scratching over our bed to know that some kind of critter, along with family and friends, no doubt, was getting a little too comfortable in our attic. This morning, my dear, efficient and handy husband decides to "check things out" before we call in the professionals. For some reason, along with some sticky traps, Papabear grabs his BB gun. I suppose he had visions of shooting some poor, unsuspecting mice and NOT damaging the ceiling or roof. I have learned there are some things...many things, actually, that I must let Papabear learn on his own. He just won't listen to reason. In this instance, I am sorry I did not think to just let the professionals handle things.
Anyway, Papabear heads up the attic stairs from the garage, brandishing his BB gun and sticky traps, and Littleman and I head out front to trim the rose bushes. A few minutes into trimming I head back into the garage to get something and I hear Papabear call from the attic, "BRITT?"
Me: Yes?
P: We have a problem.
Me: Is it a big one?
P: Um....yes.
Me: (groan - I imagine some huge rat nest and rodents eating our air conditioning ducts and having hundreds of dirty little babies) Can you just come here and tell me? I don't want to shout up to the attic.
P: Um....okay.
Littleman and I wait for what seems like an unusually long amount of time for Papabear to appear. I *THOUGHT* he was simply on the other end of the house. Papabear finally emerges at the top of the attic stairs and says, "I fell through the ceiling...over the living room"
Me: WHAT???
But, before he could respond, I ran into to living room to see this:
And this:
Well, before Littleman had time to retrieve the broom and Papabear the shop-vac, I bent over, losing all of my breath. I had to sit down immediately. I was hyperventilating a little bit. Back in the garage, Papabear comes down. I am a little embarrassed at how long it took me to recover enough to ask, "Are you alright?" Clearly he was. He didn't fall all the way through, THAT would have been an entirely MORE eventful morning. He fell up to his chest and had to pull himself back up, hence the relatively long wait. He skinned his shin pretty badly and twisted his knee in such a way that it is still bothering him. All in all, it could have been worse. We have a guy coming over in a little bit with the first estimate.
Poor Papabear. After the floor was cleaned up and he nailed some cardboard over the hole (so we cool our house and NOT the 200 degree attic) we laughed until neither of us could stand. Littleman came over, hugged me, and told me "not to cry." I told him they weren't sad tears...for now. We'll see what the repair estimate turns out to be.
I'm glad that Papa Bear is okay and that you did not go into labor. It makes it easier for me to LAUGH HYSTERICALLY. That is hilarious. I thought it was going to be just his leg that fell through, but up to his chest? Priceless. I really wish you had gone inside and seen him so you could have gotten a picture to remind him any time he wants to handle things on his own again.... ;-)
ReplyDeleteHoly shit, that is funny! I felt kinda terrible for laughing as hard as I did before learning whether or not he got very hurt... But, I guess I kinda knew you would have said so before that point, right?!? Man, I certainly do have a bad tendency to laugh at people when they get hurt, though... I second Jedi Mama... I wish you had a picture of his legs dangling... That would be even more priceless than the picture of Littleman sweeping up his daddy's mess! Teeheehee...
ReplyDelete