My older brother may also disagree, however. "You were dropped on your head as a child!" was the classic insult that my brother used to hurl at me whenever I did something stupid, which was fairly often. My response was usually to yell some idiotic, meaningless insult at him (ie "WHATEVER, YOU BIG STUPID STUPIDHEAD!") or to do something just as stupid as whatever temporary moment of insanity prompted his comment in the first place, like attacking him. He was always much larger than I, so my assaults would inevitably fail.
Regardless, that insult stuck with me, because I couldn't possibly imagine my father (DadBastard) or mother (MumBastard) ever being so irresponsible as to drop me. But one day recently the insult suddenly hit close to home. Very close.
It was a perfect day for the pool - warm but not too hot, the sun was shining brightly. My extended family (parents, siblings, various nieces and nephews, cousins, in-laws) was in town for a little
"Wait, BEFORE lunch? But don't you have to wait 15 minutes after eating before going in the pool?"
No, you don't. I thought I busted that myth months ago, but I must have missed it. Now stop interrupting.
The picnic area was at the top of a small hill, and the pool was at the bottom. After eating (no, I did not wait 15 minutes), it was time to swim. I slathered my 2-year old son in sunblock (SPF 1500, I believe), picked him up, and started down the hill.
At this point if you remember the title, I'm sure you see where this story is going, even though I clearly did not.
At the very bottom of the hill while taking the very last step, my left foot turned inwards. Badly. As my ankle turned, I felt a distinct "pop", and suddenly my entire left lower leg felt like it was on fire. It may sound trite and contrived, but the next 2 seconds actually felt like 2 minutes, everything seemingly going in super-slow motion. I lost my balance and saw my son tumble sideways out of my arms, his head going downwards directly towards the concrete pool deck. In an attempt to prevent the inevitable, I planted off my left foot (and distinctly remember thinking, "THAT WAS A VERY BAD IDEA, STUPID"), and lunged towards him, trying in vain to catch him. My arms flailed and my ankle burned as I failed to grab anything more than air, and he landed squarely on his head with a clear, unmistakable dull thud on the concrete.
Terrified that I had just scrambled my son's brain and thwarted any chances of him becoming the next Elon Musk, I did my best to ignore the sensation that a basilisk had latched onto my ankle. I scooped him up, cradling his head as best I could, and I started limping back up the hill. My ankle was hurting more and more with each step, but I didn't care. All I cared about was making sure my son wasn't seriously injured.