I need my toes!!!
Saturday morning, I had finished washing and drying all the pots and pans we had laying around and had emptied the dishwasher when I was putting away the one spoon I hand-washed and lost grip of it. I didn’t even have time to think about where it would land before I was in the fetal position on the floor, wailing for the pain I felt, and the fear for my bloody toe. Soon Jacob was at my side, I told him what happened, as well as I could. He inspected what I was afraid to look at because I do not like blood.
I asked him: “is it going to fall off?”
He replied, “yes.”
I hit him, “don’t joke!!!”
“I’m not, probably in the next week or so.”
I continued crying, now even harder than before. Just in shock kind of. Then I proclaimed: “I need my toe!!!” And Jacob started laughing, apparently he thought we were talking about the toenail, when I was worried about my whole toe. I guess my threshold for pain is pretty low, huh? Anyway, my limp (when I’m in close-toed sh and this picture are the proof of my suffering:
But I hear Grace walked into a banister AND had an allergic reaction to her bandaid, maybe that deserves a bigger pity party. Sorry girl.