I remember the day vividly. I was around 7 years old and my brother and I were at the back of the house in our rooms goofing off and making each other laugh. I got to giggling pretty hard and thought that the rest of the family (i.e. our parents) would get a kick out of whatever it was that was so funny.
The house I grew up in has two long hallways that, when you are little, seem to never end. They are perfect for playing hopscotch, practicing cartwheels and what they were used for most in our younger years - RUNNING through.
I took off tearing through the hallways laughing the entire way. The smile on my face was bigger than the sun and my two front teeth ... well, they were shining like two little pearls fresh from the oyster shells. I ran with all my might and the faster I ran, the harder I laughed.
I was like Speedy Gonzales with a smile that wouldn't quit.
I rounded the corner into the kitchen and kept on truckin'. And kept on grinnin'.
As I made my entrance into the den where my parents sat, Mom whipped her neck around as I flew past her in a flash. Once I approached my Dad, who was sitting in his seat minding his own business and relaxing for the day, I my smile grew even bigger.
And ... I couldn't slow down.
My speed was so great and forceful that I couldn't stop if I wanted to. I shuffled my feet, trying to brake myself, but there was no turning back. My body continued to run. I ran full speed ahead ... full grin ahead, smack into my Dad.
And my two front teeth sunk into his forehead.
He impulsively moved me aside and exclaimed, "What are you DOING!?"
I think it's safe to say my grin quickly faded. Actually, I don't think it even had time to fade. It went from full out beaming to shameful bawling.
My dad sat there holding his forehead and I held my teeth. He removed his hand and there upon his shiny forehead were two perfect little tooth prints.
And lots of blood.
At that point, I couldn't even remember what was so funny and what I'd run in to tell them. I had bit my Dad. Like a wild, unruly vampire. I hurt my Dad with my smile.
It's a wonder that I didn't knock my teeth out. It's also a wonder Dad doesn't have two tooth imprints stuck permanently in his head. I'm surprised it didn't knock him smooth out. I'm telling you, I hit him HARD.
After several years went by, I could not tell this story without falling into a heap on the floor laughing. The mental image of me running, smiling, and sinking my teeth into Dad's head is simply hilarious. I have told and retold this story to Husby over the years and the other day, he got a better idea of the whole ordeal.
You see, he and Levi were wrestling around on the floor and having the best of times. I admired them from afar as they laughed and screamed and I continued on with whatever it was I was doing.
Until I heard the house shake from a yelp from Husby.
Wouldn't you know, poor little Levi came running to Husby as quickly as he could, beaming from ear to ear with that precious little grin of his, and whack - his two front teeth sank right in Husby's nose.
It was BAD. It actually got infected and Husby had to be put on antibiotics for it. He had two perfect little tooth marks on his nose for several days and I couldn't help but laugh at the unfortunate situation.
Like Mother, Like Son. Levi and I need to learn when to smile, and when to turn it off.
You know the phrase, "kill em with kindness"? Well, that kind of takes on a whole new meaning for me. I'm starting to think if anyone could literally do that, it would be Levi and me. Because our smiles are pretty deadly already.