PEACE

Yeah, you're toes shouldn't make the Peace sign, you know? Madeline was playing on the kitchen table on Sunday night (she was not supposed to be) and I told her to get down. Well she did, but not gracefully and I could tell it was going to be a good one. I ran to grab her and stubbed my toe on the chair. It hurt but to make up for my bad mothering with her elbow I hopped the rest of the way to her, checked to make sure she still had all of her teeth through the massive amounts of blood gushing from her lip and after confirming that she was okay, I looked down to inspect my damage. I was horrified to see my toe going the W-R-O-N-G direction. I hopped again to the door and asked Kip to come in and lend a hand. I decided I should probably go to the ER to have it straightened back out because my feet do not need any help in the ugly department. After almost murdering a woman in the "rapid care" (that's a joke!) waiting room I decided to just go home and deal with it in the morning. (the woman complained to her "honey" that she had lost $20 twice that week about 500 times in the span of five minutes. Seriously. I am not exaggerating. I almost picked up a magazine and hucked it at her head. If I had had twenty dollars I would have given it to her) So, back to the story, the next day I went to the doctor and was told I had a fractured toe. Perfect. Kip loves it when I am unable to make it to the gym. Fortunately for everyone else my "walking" provides much comic relief.