Why You Need a Sister

Poor Kenson stubbed his big toe today on a nail head that was sticking out of a trim piece on the floor.  He complained to me about it but I of course told him to toughen up.  Five minutes later, he starts screaming bloody murder because the toe is bleeding.  (Of course, he's tracked blood all over the first floor, from the bathroom to the kitchen to the dining room, but that's another story.)  In between the sobbing and weeping, Conleigh decided she would help....with the words "I think you will die."  When I rebuffed this, she did amend her words...to "Or be in a wheelchair fo evah."  Oh so helpful, so very helpful.