I don't know what the lead up to this was, and at the time I was so young I didn't appreciate the severity of the situation.
When you're 4 years old, your willy is for peeing out of, and occasionally playing with in the bath*. It is with hindsight that the one thing it is also essential for is avoiding the fly of your trousers. I know this, because yes, I caught my johnson in my trouser zip. As I sat there, with a slight grimace on my face, I struggled with the tag of the zip to undo it. A small pea sized ball of 4 year old human skin was stretched and torn between the teeth of the zip, and no amount of forcing the zip undone would help. After stifling the whimpers, eventually big lil sis came in. Of course, she could have been discrete. She could have helped out her younger brother, who was now starting to bleed. She could have made no fuss at all and got me out of my penis pickle in one go. But she didn't
"Dad! Rik's got his hampton stuck. Come and look at this! It's really funny."
My father came in the room, and promptly turned around on the way out, sniggering. He must have composed himself out on the landing, before returning with the stern and sincere look of someone ready to help. My mother, meanwhile, was pissing herself.
"Just use some scissors. It'll grow back," she said. Something Jewish kids the world over would know to be wrong.
"You can't do that. He'll be emotionally scarred."
And so, my father set about very carefully trying to undo the fly. Each slight movement would lead to another wail of pain, and now the blood was starting to appear a lot more profusely.
"It's no good," he said," I'll just have to undo like taking off a plaster."
I'm guessing what happened next was slightly traumatizing. If I'm honest, I don't remember. Probably the brain blocking out one of those awful moments that you should never remember. I do, however, remember my mother (now helpless) saying that we should call an ambulance. My father was sat in between my legs, with thick wads of Andrex, mopping up the blood. The dog was now lapping at the floor, BLS was watching in glee at her brother's misfortune, and Mum was sat in the corner, crying with laughter. I meanwhile, was thinking about counselling. Don't you love how the family all come together in a crisis.
20 years later, and after way too much beer, I did it again. But that's another story.
*"It's mine, and I'll wash it as fast as I like."
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