Another One Bites The Dust
It happened to me this time and my mom was much more gracious than I was when it happened to her.
Here's the story.
Our water wasn't getting hot so my mom asked me to switch one of the propane tanks on and the other off.
I slid my feet with over sized socks into my Birkenstocks and threw on a sweater before heading out. I wasn't even down two steps before I realized my face was heading directly for the gravely dirt road. And as I was falling my right arm scraped the side of our living room slide out.
My mom thought I was just slamming the door (which we have to do now because it is so wonky) but wondered why the door was still open and hollered if everything was okay.
That's when the water works started.
I could hear both Phoebe and my mom launch out of the chair and head for the door. While my mom dusted me off and got me back up the stairs to check out my injuries, Phoebe was taking her time card and punching in. She takes her job very seriously when it comes to me (or my mom) being sad, in pain or hurt.
It turns out my biggest injury was an ugly bruise to the underside of my arm where it hit the slide out and a small flesh wound.
I seriously thought my arm had sliced open and I was bleeding through my shirt and sweater. I guess my pain tolerance is pretty low.
I bawled over my tiny flesh wound (my guess is that it was the straw that broke the camels back over pent up emotions) and Phoebe wiped my tears (okay, licked). And my mom nicely reserved her laughing until I started laughing about the whole thing a few hours later.
In the end, we were just glad it was me that fell and not my mom. While I may be more hysterical (somebody call the Waaa-mbulance!), she would have knocked out a tooth, broken her toe and scraped up her face (she doesn't have minor injuries when it comes to falling).
We always look on the bright side.