A conversation my four-year-old son does not have with his friend from preschool:

“Hey Zachy, remember that time you smashed me in the face with a bucket?”

“What’s that you say, Jakey?”

“Yeah, it was a bucket.”

“Ummm…”

“You were spinning around holding it at arm’s length, just going around and around and around.”

“A bucket?”

“For real, dude. I guess I got too close. Anyway, BAM! I take it right in the face. Nosebleed, big scrape, the whole deal. I got one black eye and I don’t breathe so well through my nose just yet. See how it’s blueish green and kinda puffy?”

“Maybe a little purple, too.”

“Exactly! Now you’re feelin’ me!”

“A bucket? Yikes.”

“Right?”