The Face in the Door

Our upstairs shower room has one of those big glass screens to keep the splashes inside the bath. Therefore it accumulates condensation, and acts as a blank canvas, freshly erased every night after drying off during the day. From a turkey's eye view (for an eagle's eye would be too high up the screen), sometimes, when I have finished my shower, there is a simple little smiley-face drawn as it were, by a little finger. A little finger at about waist height for an 8 year-old. And to think, there was that film once about the chap who made a living painting with his left foot.
So today in school I was sitting with my recently sharpened pencil wedged vertically between my legs for easy retrieval. I tried to retrieve it and punctured my hand to 2-plaster level. Although I got an award for handwriting, it was considerably more difficult after the pencil wound.

It wasn't as bad as Ben who had a broken tooth surgically removed and then the dentist gave him sweeties for being good. Logic, huh. Ben and I made a song in our lunch break,
"Sausage, ah, ah, ah, bananas, ah, ah, ah, potatoes, ah, ah, ah. (Repeat repeatedly), I could sing this for 5 hours, 5 hours later, sausages, potatoes, bananas, ah, ah, ah." Don't expect us to be on 'Mars Ain't Got Talent' any time soon, but we're working on a video. My guitar teacher says I've improved over the holidays, but he's not telling me that. Bud sent me back inside to find my homework book which had totally disappeared, and Lo and Behold, magically was it's location revealed unto me, in my tray. Now I won't get a Zero for failing to hand it in.
I still can't do handstands in gymnastics, I keep falling down. But I'm doing it with more style ...