Last weekend, I was at Moanalua Gardens for a playdate. I was standing under a monkeypod tree when a nut fell on my head. If you know the Gardens, you know the trees are big and majestic - and over 100 feet tall.
It whacked me with enough force to temporarily startle me and to also cause a little scratch. At first, I thought the kids threw something at me - kolohe! - but then I realized it was a big seed because I saw it still rolling to a halt on the ground. It slightly hurt.
If you spend half a day corraling and entertaining small children (which consists of keeping them from boredom, making up games, and mitigating small fights), you will understand that I was very tired by the time we got home. I said a few words of summary to Claus and didn't really say much more about the afternoon.
The next day at breakfast, Olivia pointed to my scratch and said, "It's still red and the blood is dried out." It's on my temple and my hair was hiding it, so Claus hadn't seen it, and I forgot to mention it.
His ears perked up. "What blood? What happened?" he said.
"Oh," I said nonchalantly, "some nut hit me at the park yesterday."
"What?" he said with growing concern.
"Yeah, I was just standing there and I got hit by a nut," I elaborated blandly over my eggs and toast.
"What?! Some nut just hit you?" he exclaimed with half fury and half confusion that I would totally bury the lead. "Who? What? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Olivia and I looked at him and started laughing. "No, a real nut. A seed covered by a hard shell. Sorry for confusing you," I clarified.
It's funny, how language evolves. The phrase "some nut" seems to indicate for most people, today, a crazy person. I'm sure 50 or 70 years ago, it really just meant a nut.