The classic response, all through childhood (and even now, because he is convinced that this is still hilarious), is… ‘It’s KILLING me!!
Thanks dad, for always being so very supportive and empathetic. Doesn’t matter if it was a big hurt, a little one, or a fully imagined one complete with flayed skin and spurting blood. It was always killing dad to see my face like that.
Thanks a lot, because now, my face really does hurt, and yes, it’s killing me, and this stupid phrase is all I can think of.
I’m going to the doctor – yes. It really does hurt that bad, and I can see my own swollen face when I look down.
