Interpreter, please!

My mom’s great. Supportive, caring, wise. But she is not the person you want around during an emergency. She’s …um slow, when under stress. At a recent Yee Family dinner, my sweet darling two year old nephew jumped up and down on his chair (I know, right?) slipped, fell, hitting the table on his way down. We all felt the table jolt as his little head flopped back. My mom happened to be the only person to witness the injury, as the rest of us were in conversation. (Please don’t call CPS on us.) My brother was soothing the screaming child. I started to question the witness:

Me: Mama, where did he hit?

Mom: He hit the table.

(Thanks, Sherlock. Stay calm.)

Me: Where was the contact point?

Mom: On the edge of the table. Right there. (pointing to the table)

(Keep it together. Don’t make Mom cry. My brothers are giggling by now.)

Me: You saw him fall, right? Where on his FACE did he hit the table with, Mama?

Mom: Yes, he hit his head on the table.

AAAAAHHHHHHHH! Fuck.