This Little Piggy went, "Wee, wee, ow, I think I might be broken." 

Santa came early for me this year!

I got to visit my family in Chicago over the Christmas holiday. Hooray! Going back home really brings back memories of my childhood...like those times my mother would say, "mess with the bull, and you'll get the horns" ...and other such maternal wisdom. "Mess with the bull..." was the perennial response to a teary-eyed child who was the victim of rough-housing.

So...on a slightly related topic...

Seth and I were rough-housing on Christmas Eve.

He picked me up, turned me upside-down and walked me up the steps into the kitchen...

Do you ever watch a football game where the announcer starts talking about your kicker right before he's about to launch a potential game winning field goal?

"And Kicker McFoot is 999/1000 from this distance. He leads the NFL in every kicking category...He has his leg insured by Lloyd's of London for $1 billion...there's never been a more sure-footed kicker in the history of football...blah blah blah..."

And you're sitting and watching your television thinking, "Damn you, Al Michaels! He's definitely going to miss it now! You just jinxed the whole team!"

Then your kicker shorts it by 10 yards.

Well, as I was turned upside-down and getting carried up the stairs, I said something ridiculous like, "Seth, watch out, you're really making my Mother nervous. Don't drop me."

And as he set me down, my pinky toe glanced off of a nearby garbage can.

"Yikes," I thought to myself..."that hurt."

I hobbled upstairs, removed my sock and saw a bone sticking through.


I freaked out.

So, we went to the hospital, they popped her back into place, sewed up the gash, and sent me home.

What joy! I got so many things for Christmas...

1. crutches
2. fashionable orthopedic boot
3. x-rays
4. and a tiny rubber turtle with reindeer antlers that the nurse gave me for being such a good patient. "This turtle is to remind you to take it slow." Awwwww.

So, I hobbled home to open my other presents.

Oddly, my mother had foot surgery a few weeks ago, so she's still occasionally on crutches. The two of us are thinking about starting a hobbling street gang...or at the very least, a lame foot conga line.

Ah well.


This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?