NOT(s?) on Critters head or Screaming the exact same words at the exact same time.

I'm not sure how this story started... weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds all run together with some of these memories and I think I might know how something started, then realize that was a totally different story all together. So, I'll just start were I start and realize that it doesn't really matter, its all mushed up into a 2 months lump anyway.

Seems this day Poppa wasn't in a good mood, there were several. Usually not a all day thing, and I doubt this was either. Just a bad moment in all those minutes.

Critter was trying to get Poppa to the restroom, I had left the room (why I don't know) for whatever reason I thought it was OK, or something was going on somewhere else.. I just don't remember.

Then I hear Critter say "Ouch... Poppa that hurts", then "Poppa stop hitting."

I backed up to the bedroom door and Pop had this little bottle of no rinse shampoo and bath wash whacking the crap out of Critter on the shoulder. He really wasn't hurting her, the bottle was a soft plastic and he was popping her on the shoulder with it. But he was pretty pissed and didn't want to do whatever it was that was GOING to happen. Again, I'm not sure why I left the room. Usually Critter could get him calmed down and I guess I just wasn't looking for it to go any further than it was.

But, by the time they had reached the hall headed towards the bathroom I hear "Ouch!" again. This time it sounded more serious, and I headed through the hall to see Pop mad, and he'd turned the bottle so that he was hitting with the spout (which was hard plastic) and cracking her on the head with it. "Ouch! Ouch!, Poppa quit hitting!"

I had to go over the top of Critter (good thing I have long arms) and twisted the bottle out of Poppas hand and I hollered at him (I think that was the only time I ever really hollered at him..) "Don't you get mad at HER!! If you want to get mad you get mad at ME, I'm the mean one here. You get mad at me, not HER". Tho Critter knew that times he didn't realize what or why he was doing something, and she always had the best of attitudes about it all. I do know that it hurt her feelings (maybe just for a few seconds). And if I could do anything, anything at all.. to make those few seconds not happen, well I would. Looking back on it, the look on Pops face was priceless.. he looked at me, then looked at her and back to me, and you could tell he was thinking "BUT, I'm not mad at you! I'm mad at her!"

Once he didn't have the bottle to hit with, we both grabbed him and pretty much just man handled him into the restroom. And I said "SIT DOWN" and gave a good tug on the arm I had. He did sit and just as soon as Critter let go of the arm she had, I realized he was gonna knock the shit out of her. I can move when I need or want to, and I went for that arm pretty quick. I felt bad about it afterward, cause I did it so fast that I had a little more force than was probably needed, he was bringing his arm up at a pretty good speed and I was going for it with the total intent that he wasn't going to hit Critter. So what happens? When my hand came down and around his wrist, there was a pretty decent smack that happened on impact. Then what did I say? "DON'T HIT!!" jeez. He was still confused and I felt bad, I ended up giving him my wrists to hold. Which he squeezed I think wanting to hurt me, but I did get him to look me in the eyes and I started talking.. I don't have a clue what the fuck I was saying to him, but my mouth can run at high speed if the adrenaline is pumping and I suppose it was running pretty high at that moment. Critter did what needed to be done and we three headed back towards the bedroom. Critter had said something like "Pop we gotta take care of stuff like that, its OK".

Then Poppa stopped, and said "I don't want you to care!". He probably felt like he was being jumped by a couple of wailing banshees as we both screamed in unison, "Poppa we DO care" and Poppa saying "I don't want you to care!" and again at the same time (a bit softer tho) "Poppa, we HAVE to! We have to!". He looked at both of us and I could see that maybe he didn't much like it (at the time), but he understood.

Poppa was a proud man, and sometimes that was hard on all of us.