Sunday, July 25, 2010

... and nothing happened

We went to the fountains.  Maybe you are thinking "A nubie walking hemophiliac trying to keep his balance on wet pavement.  Don't do it lady.  Don't do it."

Harris did a downward dog right onto his forehead (actually, that might be a totally different yoga position).  Contrary to my previous assertions about "fountains are better than pools because no one can drown", he nearly drowned because downward dog and standing water apparently aren't good friends.  Also, he scratched up his head.  Nothing happened.

Same fountain, different day, he did what my family refers to as a "belly whomp" on the concrete and then sort of rolled up onto one shoulder and the side of his face.  He looked like one of those slow-mo shots that they use on that show "Wipe Out".  (Just for the record - I hate that show, and only watch it when my husband has Hulu held hostage.  I mean how many times can you watch people get hurled into the mud by a Wylie Coyote inspired punching arm and still think it's funny? Seriously people.)  Nothing happened.

We have been through a fall down the stairs (it was a slow roll), immunizations, falling, tripping, banging, pulling chairs onto our chests, being lifted by our 4 year old brother in a rather unconventional fashion, an ingrown toenail and a chest x-ray because Harris may or may not have swallowed a Lego guy's head.  (Waste of an x-ray, as it turned out) and we've only had one trauma related infusion so far.  Piano leg - one, Harris' head- zero.

Mostly, so far, "nothing" happens a lot more than "something"... which would make for a bloody boring episode of Wipeout, but a pretty bloody good life.

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