This morning I woke up to the sound of Ben crying out in pain. I ran to the bathroom, where Ben had managed to whack his head on the wall while drying the floor. I started repeating the mantra "You need to ice it," but he insisted that he had to finish getting ready and didn't have time for first aid. Since I refused to shut up about his need to ice his noggin, I added for good measure, "I'm not nagging you, the wisdom of the ages is nagging you."
Ben's head is fine, though I'm not so sure he appreciated that I was still laughing at myself when we had our mid-morning check-in call.