Last night, I fell down. Twice.
The first time I was coming out of a door with my friend and secret project co-conspirator and I just missed a step like an old lady and went down on my knee, but then I rolled and landed on my side and my ass. My knee was skinned and my pride was hurt, but I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and went on with life.
I was SHOCKED that I had fallen down. SHOCKED. I haven’t fallen down, like REALLY fallen down, in years and years.
Imagine my surprise when a few hours later I fell down AGAIN.
The second time I should have seen coming. I was outside Bar 33, trying to get my buddy Sebastian’s attention so I could compliment him – really – as being the only person who actually gave me a birthday gift on my birthday. He wasn’t paying attention though, so I tried kicking him in the ass, but he grabbed my leg and held it, and everything just fell apart. I stumbled and twisted around and started going down, and to add insult to already serious injury, I fell on the same knee I fell on the first time, but I also smashed my face into a window, my glasses fell off, and there were WAY more witnesses.
Needless to say, I’m sore. But there is something that is very very necessary to say:
Kiss your baby’s booboos. They hurt. Next time Elise falls down, I am not going to just say “Eh, you’re a kid, you fall down all the time, big whup.” Next time, I am going to hold her, kiss her, love on her, and give her a booboo bandaid or ice pack if she wants one – because damnit, I wish I had someone around to do the same for me.