Woe is He

This afternoon, I noticed a curious trail of blood spots dotting my rugs. I investigated and found #3 sitting on the couch with a cut toe. I asked how it happened. He had no idea--and, it's important to note here, he wasn't particularly concerned about it at the time of my discovery. So, I washed his foot and placed him in a safe spot while I followed the trail to see if I could discern the cause of the cut as I spot cleaned the blood trail. From the other room, I heard this woeful exchange.

#3: (alone in the next room, sitting on a towel) Poor me. Poor, poor me. It's okay. I'll be fine, poor me. Poor, poor me. Poor me. Poor , poor. . .(and it went on and on in likewise fashion)

#1: (entering the room) What's wrong? What happened?

#3: Oh, poor me. I cut my toe. I have blood.

#1: Oh, no! That's too bad.

#3: Yeah. I'm so sad and my song isn't working.

#1: What isn't working?

#3: My song. . .I sing "poor me," but it's not working. . .my toe still has blood. When Mommy sings my song, it works. But now it's not working.

note: I eventually sang the song (which really isn't so much a song as it is a repetition of word "poor" followed by the child's name). The cut eventually stopped bleeding. I had no idea of this causal effect my "singing" has on lacerations! Good to know.