I wish I could remember how he describes the action to me well enough to transcribe it, because it's adorable and really, really funny. I explained what was happening the first time around, so he repeats most of that back to me in his lovely, three-year-old way that involves repeated phrases and circular logic ('he hurt his leg, and his friends go back for him because he hurt his leg!'), and the absolute assurance that Lindemann's sleeping on the top of the mountain, rather than dead.
So, long, rambling stuff short, ish, I can't get the song or the video out of my head. So I was thinking of it earlier this evening when I was looking at the damage I managed to do to myself this afternoon when I smacked my son's butt and hit my middle finger surprisingly hard against a concrete drinking fountain (it's not like I was whaling on my kid or anything). I think I burst a blood vessel, since the side under the third joint is noticeably swollen and light purple. I can still bend it and type and all that, but it looks gross.
And, um, that's it, really. I had a really good weekend, though! Grievous injury to my digit notwithstanding. I just wanted to