"Hey Bitchie, do you have a scar?"
He cocks his head to one side to think for a moment and brings his hand to his chin thoughtfully. After a moment, Rebecca and I look at each other and then back at him and I make a comment over how it's not that hard to know if you have a scar or not.
For once, Richie isn't being an idiot as, it turns out, he's actually pointing out a scar on his chin.
It takes me a moment too notice it, a faint patch of flesh beneath his lip where his facial hair refuses to grow.
Once upon a time in New York, a small(er) Bitchie was on a playground, on a bouncing bridge. He was attempting to reach out to grab a set of monkey bars. Unfortunately for Baby Bitchie, a stampede of children come down the bridge at the same time, causing him to lose his balance. He falls about five feet, smacking his face onto the edge of the lower platform. There's tears, there's blood, and there goes little Baby Bitchie running hysterically around a New York playground bawling for his mommy.
On the plus side, he gets to ride in an ambulance and stitches...that counts as a plus right?
