We took the kiddos to a bowling party recently. It’s the first visit we’ve made to this particular place, and we loved it. They had lots of fun bowling, playing games, and laser tag. Well, my son loved playing Laser Tag…my daughter lasted all of two minutes in the dark with people “shooting” at her before she screamed to be taken out. Actually, I’m surprised she lasted that long.
But as usual, Murphy’s Law absolutely dictates that “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”.
That something that went wrong came in the form of a bowling ball…that landed on my daughter’s little foot.
I didn’t actually SEE it happen. I only glanced up in time to see my girl’s face go from shock to horrific pain in about three seconds, and only then did I hear someone say the words ‘dropped the ball on her foot’. It was quite a bit later that I realized it was another child who dropped the ball on my daughter’s foot.
True to form, my sweet girl fuh-reaked out because she was sure this meant she’d be going to a hospital. The child hates hospitals and really isn’t a fan of doctors since the appendicitis scare/Mama almost decked the EMT debacle a couple years ago. She almost wouldn’t even let me take her shoe off to check out her foot. One of the moms at the party actually works in an orthopedic office, and looked it over too…she even called the orthopedic doctor and just ran the injury by him to see if we needed to do anything about it.
Luckily, she is moving the affected toe with no problem and she’s walking on it fine. It’s a bit swollen, and I’m sure before too long it will be black and blue. We got a bag of ice immediately after it happened for her foot, and we put ice on it for a couple hours after we got home.
I was sure she was going to go all Drama Queen on us and milk this little injury for all it was worth. I mean, really…I would have. But after a couple hours laid up in bed with an ice pack on her foot, she was asking if she could puleeze get up already?
Let the skipping commence.