So, last night when Scott got home from work he was walking across the kitchen floor in socks, talking about goodness knows what, when I hear the faint sound of wood breaking and suddenly he is yelling, “WHAT IN THE HECK WAS THAT?” and “OW!” and “WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?” and I’m looking and looking and looking at the floor and saying comforting things like, “there’s nothing here, Scott” when he yells, “IT’S IN MY FOOT NOW, MEGAN!” and I look and yup, that is a piece of wood sticking out of the bottom of his foot.
Holy. Crap. I run for the tweezers and Scott tries to remain calm but that shard (can’t call it a splinter, splinters are tiny) is not budging and I’m starting to get a little woozy imagining what’s going to happen if I actually DO get it out of his foot. Scott’s sister is there, but you can tell that she’s just trying not to throw up because she’s imagining the immediate, shardless future as well. Poor Scott. He tells me to go ahead and pass out or whatever and then to GET IT OUT OF HIS FOOT, so I try to pull myself together and then work on the spike (it’s a spike now), jiggling it slightly in a way that has got to be killing Scott and now I’m saying less comforting things like, “if I pull this out of your foot it’s going to start bleeding like crazy” and Scott is telling me to just GET IT OUT OF HIS FOOT…NOW and then — bam — the 3/4″ spike is out of his foot and Scott is in way more pain than he was pre-spike.
The good news: the spike was in at such an angle that it was MOSTLY in the calloused part of Scott’s foot. There was hardly any bleeding.
The other good news: I found the spot where the spike came out of the floor, and it matches perfectly. There aren’t any spike remnants lurking in Scott’s foot to trouble him later.
The other other good news: Scott is OK now.
So let’s see…we were all perfectly healthy for a March-record-setting…3 days. And then THE KITCHEN FLOOR GOES ON THE ATTACK. Well played, March. Well played. So much for my plan of not leaving the house for the rest of the month to insure our good health.
In unrelated news, our child is the most amazing, smartest, sweetest little boy in the entire world. I know that all moms think that, but it really is true for my kid. When I picked him up from daycare yesterday, they told me about how one of the younger babies was sitting at this activity table they have — we have one too, it’s terrific. It’s a table with all these fun toys on it and a chair on wheels attached. The baby can “walk” themselves around the table and play with the different toys. (Although, in my experience, once they learn how to move it themselves they spend all of their time running laps realrealreal fast. Still awesome!) Here’s a link if you can’t picture it.
Ok. So one of the younger babies was in it, and he tried to run in a circle but it bumped up against a different walker toy that one of the older babies had pushed into it. The daycare lady said that LilRunr noticed his friend was in trouble and popped right up and went over to the other toy. It took him some time to maneuver, but eventually he got the walker toy away from the activity table so his little friend could run. They said it was fun to watch my boy problem-solve.
LilRunr is just over one year old…and he’s doing whatever he can to help a friend. How sweet is that?