Our preschool-aged Girl likes five things more than anything else in the world.

Our preschool-aged Girl likes five things more than anything else in the world.

1) Talking. To anyone, about anything, for amazing amounts of time. When she’s a teenager hopefully cell phones are replaced by something less intrusive and considerably less expensive or my wife and I are in trouble.

2) Unicorns, fairies and princesses, preferably all three at once. A Unifairiess* comes with a horn, wings, a tiara, is often purple or pink, dances like a figure skater and barfs glitter.

3) Macaroni and cheese with tuna.

4) Being a ballerina.

5) Torturing her brother.

It’s this last one that worries my wife and I and has recently prompted us to qualify the Girl’s answer to the first question people have asked her for the past two weeks.

“Where’d you get that cast?” they ask.

The cast is a beauty, by the way, with pink and orange stripes as per the Girl’s instructions, and covers her right forearm.

“He did it,” the Girl always says, pointing to her slightly older brother who outweighs her by about 30 pounds.

Ouch. That sounds a bit like neglectful parenting.

“They were wrestling,” is our usual defense, which is OK because it’s true. “He fell on her arm.”

With that, the person who asked scrunches their face in the usual “I bet that hurt but I don’t know because, hey, look at my arm, it’s fine” kinda way.

But the Girl’s cast isn’t the beginning of the story. That would be the Boy’s chin.

Coming home after taking my 15-year-old son for a driving lesson, hoping for a few minutes rest or preferably a cocktail, the telephone rang.

“Jason,” a family friend said, trying to sound like nothing was really wrong. “Go to the emergency room. Your family’s there. The Boy cut his chin.”

Nobody can say those words like nothing’s wrong. Nobody.

The emergency room is a terrifying place, mainly because the word “emergency” figures so prominently in the title. You know what kind of medical cases they handled on the TV show “ER”? Emergencies. I don’t care how strikingly attractive a medical staff can be on television, when you rush into the emergency room expecting to see your child, in this case a first grade boy, gushing fluid from his chin like it was a rain spout, the ER loses a bit of its romance.

His chin wasn’t, by the way, gushing anything, and it only took four stitches to close. The cut wasn’t even that big of an emergency. He’d jumped into the swimming pool and cracked his chin on, not concrete, but … wait for it … some other kid’s head.

Yep, he takes after me.

Four days later we were back in the same ER, in the same bed with the Girl cradling her arm like it was a kitten. We also got the same doctor.

“You guys are having a bad week,” she said, looking at us like she probably wasn’t going to call child protective services. Thank you. “What happened?”

The Girl pointed at her brother.

“He did it.”

*Back off, Disney. I have patent pending on this.