I totally had a great post planned to share with you all today, but then we had a trip to the E.R. last night, and now you'll just have to read this junk instead. No, really.
Mimi (my mom) came over to say hi to the girls last night before their bedtime. Natalie decided that a rousing game of ballroom dancing was in order. This requires me to lift, spin, twirl, and dip her repeatedly, all the while loudly humming the "Once Upon a Dream" song from Disney's Sleeping Beauty, which is her current favorite this week. If I stop humming to catch my breath, she orders me to continue.
She's a real taskmaster.
With all the intricate dance moves we were performing, an injury was bound to occur sooner or later. Except it ended up being Michaela Byrd. Mimi was spinning her, and we think something in her arm might have popped out of place because she started wailing and could not be consoled.
T rushed home from his poker game to drive us to the E.R. and Mimi stayed home with Natalie.
God surely smiled on us because the waiting room was close to deserted, and we were taken back after only a few minutes wait. In our town, this is a miracle.
As I looked at the enormous X-ray machines, computers, syringes, bandages, and charts, I was at that moment grateful for family in town. If Mimi hadn't stayed home with Natalie, she would have surely overtaken the triage unit and wanted to suture everything.
By the time it was our turn for the X-rays, Michaela Byrd had perked up considerably. And by considerably, I mean she was holding her sippy cup with both hands and downing ice water like there was no tomorrow. She also gave T repeated high fives and tried to climb off my lap.
We jokingly asked her if she was faking.
"No." she replied in her tiny little voice.
The doctor reviewed the X-rays and said that she didn't think a splint would actually be necessary and to just keep an eye on her. Something may have popped out of place and then just popped back in.
After a quick visit with my friend J, who was working in the ER, we headed home to put a sleepy 17 month old in bed.
So that's why you ended up reading this crappy post today instead of the wonder I had planned for you.
If you don't believe me, I have a doctor's note.