Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Falling All Over Myself

For one of our last nights away from the land of taxes, we stayed with our friends in Portland. In order to facilitate the evacuation of wiggles, we went to Out of This World Pizza so that the kids could run and run and run in the warehouse-sized playland and eat dinner in one fell swoop.

H and Charlie were having a magnificent time with the giant slides, swirly bumper carts and play houses. I wish we had something like this at home because in addition to being a great place to take the kiddos, the pizza was really good...not something old Chuck E. can claim. Plus the animatronic band is just plain creepy.



As we were eating, H quickly lost interest in his slice o' cheese, and ran off to play. After about twenty minutes, I realized I wasn't doing the best parental supervisory job and headed off to find him. Walking across the squishy mats in my trusty Dansko clogs, I spotted H in the plastic Little Tykes-style house as he was slamming a window. I quickened my pace so that I could remind him that 'We don't slam things' (aka, You don't slam things) and I failed to notice the sloped edging of the black mat.


The design of clogs have always kind of baffled me...they're much more narrow at the bottom than at the top, which is great if you like to break your ankle on every uneven surface. These things were seriously designed by a nation with cobble-stone streets?


Predictably, my ankle buckled to the side and my lithe frame went flying. 'Luckily' there was a plastic house to catch my fall. After slamming into the house and moving it a good six inches across the floor, the wall being it's stopping point, I glanced around to see that no other adults spotted my fall from grace. Sure enough, Mr. Cool Dad was snorting into his sleeve in order to at least attempt social nicety. Too late, I'd already seen it.


There was nothing to do but balance myself in a crouched position against the open window of the plastic house so that a) I could assess whether or not I'd broken my ankle b) I stopped laughing long enough to gain the strength to stand up again and c) I'd assured H and the other little boy inside that they'd not been the victims of an 'earth shake'.


Cackling like a crazed woman, I returned to the table to relate my tale, which was greeted by head-shakes and blank stares...because I still couldn't compose myself enough to get it all out in one breath.


Nothing like a little tumble to put you right back in your place.

2 comments:

Crafty Mama said...

This is exactly why I don't wear clogs. I love them, but I have weak ankles to start with and I slip and crunch out of them all of the time. Too bad too, because I have a really nice pair from LL Bean that are about ten years old and still stylish!

Mommy to Tyler & Kendall said...

You know what I'm doing right now right!! God I wish I could have seen that. I can't believe you didn't say anything this morning. Between you moving and this story, you've brought tears to my eyes all day!